An Invincible Summer
by TheMadMistress
Summary: Sonja. That's her name. Not Sophia, not Your Royal Highness. Just Sonja. And she would trade Arendelle for the world if she could. The wish that she harbors for all her life comes true in a manner she did not expect, but will take all the same. Adventure. Freedom. Magic is in her blood, they say, and it seems that the same can be said of trouble as well.
1. Chapter 1

The sun had not yet began to rise, and would not for several hours yet. Sonja had always been the one to awaken at a ridiculously early time. Not even the servants woke up when she did. She figured it was just a habit from her childhood that she had never outgrown.

The palace was silent when she opened her bedroom door. There was no lamp burning in the hall, but pale light spilled in through the windows that were left unshuttered. As quietly as she had opened her door, she closed it behind her.

She carried her boots in one hand and her pack of equipment in the other. Her socked feet slid on the polished wood of the floor, but she never stumbled or fell. Whatever failing she had as a princess, she was at the very least graceful.

Sonja paused by one of the tall windows and peeked out at the sky. The writhing colors that streaked through the stars made her smile, made her heart race with excitement. The aurora borealis had always brought her a sense of joy that nothing could deter.

Without incident, she made her way down to the kitchens as she did every morning. Embers glowed in the wide stone hearth across the room from her, and she started at the movement of shadows. Sonja heard the scrape of metal on stone, and blinked away from the sudden light of the rekindled fire.

The woman standing by the hearth prodded the burning logs a few more times before finally looking towards Sonja. Amusement quirked the corners of her lips and danced in her dark eyes. The recognition of her Aunt Elsa's consort, Salama, made Sonja's shoulders relax.

"I decided to sleep in a little," the princess chuckled. "What of you, Salama? Are you up early or late?"

Salama chuckled, the sound rich and low. She returned the poker to its hook, and resumed her seat on a low stool near the fire. Like Sonja, she was dressed to ward off the nighttime chill though her clothes were meant for sleeping, not mountain climbing.

"Late, I suppose," Salama replied. The words were wrapped in a distinct accent, one that had persisted despite the many years she had lived in Arendelle. "Elsa does not rest well, so neither do I."

"Magnus?"

"More specifically; the ball. You know she's never much gotten used to throwing parties."

Everyone knew that Elsa would have rather had a hundred private dinners in as many days as opposed to a big, lavish celebration. Not that Sonja could particularly blame her for it. Large gatherings tended to spectacularly derail. "That's why Mum's been the Mistress of Ceremonies for… well, forever."

Salama nodded, her expression turning stern. Or at least, as stern as she ever cared to be. It was rare that Salama was anything other than warm and gentle, which had made her the childhood hero of many hurt feelings. "This is a very important gathering, Sonja."

"I know," Sonja replied, growing sheepish.

"So please try to be back here in time to get ready."

"Yes, auntie. I'll be back by noon. I promise."

The corners of Salama's eyes crinkled when she smiled, pleased and relieved at the promise all at once.

"Thank you, _mima_." She gestured to a little satchel on the table closest to Sonja. "I packed you a breakfast. You always forget to take food with you."

"Always in a hurry," Sonja laughed. "Thank you." Grabbing the satchel, she slipped it into her bigger pack of equipment, and took a seat on a nearby stool so she could put her boots on.

Salama nodded again, this time in understanding instead of acknowledgement. She knew as well as anyone why it was that the princess snuck out every morning to go into the mountains. She had known it since she first arrived in Arendelle, but she never commented on it.

No pity. No scolding. Nothing but a silent acceptance and promise to support her however she could.

"There are carrots for Stig by the door as well," Salama added, pointing. The vegetables were just barely visible in the dim light of the little fire.

Sonja finished lacing her boots, stood up, and grinned towards the other woman. Excitement was beginning to simmer inside her, just as it did every morning. These trips were the only times she ever got to leave the city, the only adventures she got to indulge in, and she relished every single one of them.

"Thank you, Salama."

"Anything, any time, _mima_. You know that. Just remember…"

"Home by noon. I have a final fitting and the hairdresser is will be here."

A chuckle tumbled over Salama's lips at the recitation, making Sonja grin all the more. Salama climbed to her feet as well, and moved to embrace her niece. Sonja returned the hug with a squeeze that made the slighter woman grunt under her breath. When they pulled back from one another, Salama patted Sonja's cheek as she done since Sonja was a little girl.

"Sometimes I forget just how strong you are," she told her. "Nevertheless, be careful."

Sonja nodded. "Of course. And you should try to get at least a little sleep while you can."

"Trust me, I intend to."

The princess moved away from her, and grabbed her bag. She slung it over one shoulder with little effort, then started towards the door, pausing only to grab the carrots. Salama waited until the door closed behind the younger woman, then finally left to return to the chambers that she shared with the queen.

The stables were a welcome change from the still air of the palace. Fresh straw had been laid down the night before, and the sweet scent of it masked the stouter smell of manure. Sonja jogged to the stall at the end where a wooden plaque bore the childishly hand-carved name "Stig."

"Stig," she greeted, opening the door of the stall without hesitation. "Rise and shine, buddy. Time to go."

The reindeer snorted as he rose to his feet and shook out his coat. He looked at her with as dour an expression as an animal could make, and snorted a second time. Unlike Sonja, he was not keen on mornings.

"C'mon, don't be grumpy. It's a lovely morning."

Stig just stared at her. This time she was the one to snort at him. She slid the bag on her shoulder down enough to reach into it. The bushy tops of the vegetables stashed inside brushed against her fingers, and she grabbed them.

"Well… I suppose you could go back to sleep if you wanted to," she told him, slowly pulling the carrots out by their stalks. Stig watched her intently, looking a little more interested than before. "But then I'm going to have to eat these carrots all… by… myself…"

Sonja revealed the carrots with a flourish and a knowing grin. He let out an objecting bleat and nudged her arm with his nose. She laughed as she reached to stroke the underside of his chin.

"Thought you might feel that way."

She led him out of the stall, and pulled one of the carrots out the bunch. Stig wasted no time in taking it out of her hand, and happily munched away as she set to saddling and packing him. The whole process took hardly any time at all, given the extensive practice she had in doing it. By this point it was second nature to her, every bit as easy as getting dressed of a morning. As soon as she had everything situated as she wanted it to be, she led Stig out of the stable, climbed into the saddle, and headed out of the palace gates.

There were only a few people in the village that were awake when she passed through. A couple of guards strolled through the streets, making sure that all was well and peaceful. Lamps were lit in the bakery and she could smell the fires and baking dough as she passed by. She could hear the sounds of the tavern dwindling down for the night, clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. A pair of sailors staggered out of the door, crooning a song she did not recognize and stopping only to argue as to what the next verse was.

Nudging Stig, she guided him towards the path she had taken every day for as long as she could recall. Her father used to take her in the sled with him, and then when she was given Stig she had ridden him up the winding trail.

Those early trips had often included her older brother, Magnus, back before his days were filled with official duties. He loved to seize every opportunity to practice what Aunt Elsa had taught him. The mountains were still riddled with his roaming creations. Frederik, her younger brother, all but hated waking up early, and was not keen on any sort of physical exertion that went beyond shopping. He refused to join in on the morning excursions, but was not opposed to the afternoon picnics that the whole family would often go on.

The bittersweet pange of absence stung her heart for neither the first nor last time. For ten years she had been making the trip alone, but the journey up the mountain never grew easier. It was too quiet, too still. It just never felt right.

The dark of the night had lightened to the gunmetal gray of predawn when she finally drew Stig to a stop and dismounted. Another carrot was fished from her bag and handed over, and she scratched his ear as he eagerly crunched on it. After his last bite, she pulled away to unfasten her pack and shrug it on before she finished climbing the icy little rise to the ledge she loved most.

The frozen lake below stretched for miles and gave the fleeting impression of infinite ice. The snow was not as dense in this place, since she cleared out a spot to sit every morning. When she had made a decent seat, she settled down with her bag in her lap, and looked to the mountain pass far below where she knew they would come.

She did not know how long she waited, but she knew it could not have been more than a quarter-hour. The sun had not yet began to rise when she heard the echo of jingling bells and men's voices. The song sent a thrill of delight rushing through her that made her heart skip a beat. She craned her neck to better see the sleds as they slid out onto the thick ice.

The heavy clink of the horses' spiked shoes drowned out the sound of the ice harvesters' singing. When they came to a stop and the men disembarked, she smiled to hear their song again. She knew and had known these songs all her life. Her father had sang them to her and her siblings whenever he put them to bed, or whenever they all loaded into their sleigh to spend a few days up in the wilderness he called home.

Maybe that was why she felt that the cliff was holier than any church or Nordic ruins she had ever been to. In that place her father was everywhere. He was in the voices of the ice harvesters, in the twisting colors of the sky, and even in the chill of the snow around her. Ten years dead, but he still lived on in those mountains that he loved so well.

Sonja listened to the men, to the sounds of their pick-axes and saws hit ice as much as their singing, as she ate the breakfast that Salama had packed for her. Dawn broke over the far ridge of snow-capped peaks, bathing the earth and sky with glowing streaks of pink and orange. She could have spent the entire day there, but the memory of her conversation with Salama was fresh on her mind. Sonja had never broken a promise, and had no intention of changing that today.

Snow clung to her pants and boots even after she brushed at and beat the garments to knock it away. A few clumps fell off as she walked down to the copse of trees where she had left Stig. He was rubbing his head against a tree trunk, scratching the area where his antlers were beginning to regrow. At her approach, he stopped and looked at her.

She gave him another carrot, waited until he finished it, repacked and remounted, and urged him onto the path that led back to the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn had fully broken by the time she dropped Stig off at the stables. Though it was finally springtime, the nights held a lingering chill that disappated with the daylight. Sonja, having dressed during the night, now sweated under the thick layers of her clothes. She stripped off her jacket long before she entered the palace, and held it draped over one arm while her satchel hung off the opposite shoulder.

A servant met her at the door to collect the items she carried, and passed along a message from her mother reminding her to take a bath before her fitting. She thanked the man before heading up to her room. The maids were already there, filling a large copper tub with alternating pots of hot and cold water.

A young woman close to Sonja's age was arranging a set of clothes on the stand near the tub, and the sight of her made Sonja grin. She wore a vibrant blue dress trimmed at the neck with same yellow fabric that lined the hem of her skirt. A pattern composed of red flower buds on green stalks had been embroidered on top of the yellow trim. Her white blouse was of the Arendelle style, somewhat loose with fitted hems at the three-quarters length sleeve. The thick mass of her pale blonde hair was pulled back in a heavy bun that rested at the nape of her neck.

"Frieda," Sonja greeted. "Where have you been? I was beginning to worry about you."

Frieda straightened and looked over to her with a kind smile. Not for the first time, Sonja was struck with just how beautiful her friend was. It was no wonder that she had more suitors than she could ever keep track of.

"I've been busy in other parts of the palace," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of her homeland. "It's an important night, you know."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

Frieda chuckled, and the room seemed brighter than before. "You could sound less enthused, but it would be difficult."

"It's Magnus' birthday," Sonja said, waving dismissively. She moved to stand by the tub, and trailed her fingers through the tempered water. "He's the one they're trying to marry off. I'm not all that important."

"Which is why he needs you there. He needs someone there that isn't out for his powers or his crown."

Sonja couldn't decide if there was a touch of sadness in Frieda's placid tone or not. There wouldn't be any surprise if there was. Every man in Arendelle might be head over heels in love with Frieda, but she had only ever cared for one of them.

"So hurry and bathe," the other woman continued, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. "I've laid out a dressing gown for you, and I'll be waiting just outside in the hall to take you to your mother's room when you're ready."

Frieda bobbed her a curtsy, a gesture mimicked by the other two serving women, and led them out of the room. She welcomed the privacy of being able to bathe without the presence of maids. It made her grateful for the lax etiquette of the Arendelle court. There were places that she had read about where a princess wasn't permitted to dress herself, or even walk down a flight of stairs without assistance. She couldn't imagine living with such restrictions.

A table pulled up next to the tub bore a silver tray laden with soaps and bottles of perfumes. Each one had been a gift from some visiting ambassador or a merchant wanting to gain favor, but who had no idea what Princess Sophia might like best. She passed most of the scented presents off to Freddie, but every so often she found one that she liked. Her current favorite was a French-made soap speckled with lavender that left a mild, clean smell.

Her clothing was stripped off and dropped into a pile beside the table, then climbed into the tub. The water was just warm enough to leech any residual chill from her bones, but not enough to make her start sweating again. For a long while she just sat and soaked, but she knew that she couldn't take too long. As quickly as she could manage, she washed her skin and hair with the lavender soap.

She wrung out her hair before climbing from the tub, hoping that it would help the thick locks dry out a little faster. Frieda had laid out a towel and some simple clothing she could wear while getting ready. In little more than a quarter of an hour, she had dried off and pulled on the plain dress and dressing gown. Her hair was left loose around her shoulders, in part to help the drying process but mostly because she knew that anything she tried to do with it was just going to be undone by the hairdresser.

Just as Frieda had said, she was waiting for Sonja in the hallway. She sat in a chair pulled up to the nearest window, with a basket of thread by her feet. Embroidery was yet another talent of Sonja's long time friend, and she seemed to be perpetually working on something for someone. Now, however, the embroidery hoop lay abandoned on her lap. Her focus had shifted from the colorful swatch of fabric to the courtyard below.

Sonja was careful to make as little sound as possible as she closed her bedroom door behind her. Luckily, Frieda was enraptured by whatever it was she saw, making it all too easy for the younger woman to sneak up and peer over her shoulder.

The courtyard was a flurry of activity. Servants were high on ladders, busy stringing up lanterns and bunting done in the royal colors of purple, green, and gold along the edges of eaves and balconies. Two tall, frozen fountains flanked the path that led from the gate to the palace doors, and between them stood two figures as still and straight as the plumes of ice.

They were the most easily recognized pair in the kingdom, not solely because of they unusual, icy clothing they wore. Everyone knew of the Queen of Arendelle, who commanded ice and snow. They knew her from the coins bearing her image, and from the copies of her official coronation portrait that had been popular memorabilia after the Great Freeze. "the Snow Queen" they had called her for a long time, much to her chagrin.

Sonja's brother, Magnus, had never been particularly perturbed by being referred to as "the Snow Prince", but he had also never had to hide his powers. Elsa had made sure of that. From the day that the white-haired boy had come into her life, Elsa had done everything she could to make sure that neither he nor anyone else had cause to fear his abilities. She mentored him in his powers and when she had taught him all she knew, she progressed to teaching him the arts of statecraft and diplomacy. When she and Anna had made the decision that he should be named as heir, no one had been particularly surprised.

As slight as what Elsa was, Magnus was burly. He had the broad build of their father, Kristoff, but his face favored the one in the painting that hung in their aunt's office, the one of their grandfather, King Agnarr. There was no wonder that between his looks and status as Crown Prince of Arendelle, Magnus was a much sought after husband. He had not outright declined any of the offers they received, but he had been avoiding the matter for as long as he could. No one really knew why, save for Sonja.

"Handsome sight isn't it?" Sonja said, an impish grin curling her lips.

Frieda startled from her reverie, and leaned back from the window. She looked up to Sonja with a flushed, guilty face that made the princess chuckle.

"The... the decorations are lovely," Frieda replied, attempting a casualness she couldn't quite manage. Not while her face was as red as the rosebuds on her skirt.

Sonja still smiled. She knew that Frieda was aware of her knowledge of the feelings that were shared between her friend and her brother, but they rarely spoke on the matter. Frieda had stated again and again that it simply couldn't be. "Yeah, I was definitely referring to the decorations."

Frieda ignored the statement, instead turning her attention to slippined her embroidery hoop into the basket at her feet. The blush didn't fade from her cheeks as she rose from the chair, and she didn't look towards Sonja before she began walking down the hall.

"Your mother is expecting you, Your Highness. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

The pair walked in silence down the hall and up the stairs. The top rooms of the castle were home to only two suites; one for the king and one for the queen. Sonja's grandparents had broken the tradition in their time, however, and now their children had split the suites between them. The Queen and her consort lodged in one room, while Sonja's parents had moved into the other.

Voices drifted into the hallway through a gap in the door. One was distinctly her mother's, the other belonged to her younger brother, Freddie. Their conversation was clearly heard long before Sonja and Frieda reached the room.

"What do think, Mother?"

"You know I think you look handsome in anything you wear."

"Mother, that's not helpful."

"Go with the hunter green."

Sonja heard shuffling, presumably Freddie shrugging out of one coat to pull on another. She rapped her knuckles against the door, making it swing open a little more.

Her mother was seated on the edge of her bed, half buried under a pile of frock coats of varying colors. Her brother stood before the full length mirror by the closet, fastening a hunter green coat. If Freddie noticed her, he didn't acknowledge her yet. Her mother, on the other hand, lit up with a full, bright smile.

"Sonja, sweetheart! I was wondering when you'd get here. Come in. Come in!" She waved her daughter into the room, her exuberance never faultering.

Princess Anna of Arendelle, Dowager Grand Duchess of Flink-Merak, had been a great beauty in her youth and nothing about that had changed in her middle age. Her ginger hair was threaded through with silver, and the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkled deeply when she smiled. Aside from those minute differences she looked the same as she did in her wedding portrait, which hung in the grand salon next to an old rendering of Joan of Arc. Sonja had been told that she favored her mother, but she could not see it. She did not think she looked like either of her parents.

Anna pushed her youngest child's frock coats off her lap and onto the bed so she could rise to her feet. Crossing the room to the doorway, she swept her daughter into a tight embrace that would have squeezed the air from someone else. Sonja was well-accustomed to her mother's hugs, and was prepared for the force of it. With a wide smile of her own, Sonja returned the embrace.

When Anna finally released her, she held her at arm's length to look her over.

"You get beautifuller every time I see you!" she exclaimed. She made a face before correcting herself. "Well, not fuller. More beautiful. I mean-"

"I know, Mama," Sonja interrupted, laughing. "Thank you."

Fredrik turned towards them, straightening his cuffs as he did. He looked younger than his eighteen years, but did not seem to mind. He was sleek and lean, and had fine features that were almost feminine. When they were all younger, Sonja had put him in one of her dresses for the sake of amusement.

"Fredrika" had been a very pretty girl.

"Tell me what you think," he said, striking a pose. Sonja couldn't help chuckling at the sight. He reminded her of the peacocks she'd seen in a book once.

"Dark green looks good on you," Sonja replied, giving a little shrug.

Appeased by the praise, Fredrik turned to examine himself in the mirror once more. "_Hunter_ green, sister dear. It's _hunter green_."

"Whatever you say, Freddie."

"Now that that's settled, Fredrik," Anna interjected, "go see if Elsa needs your help with anything. Gerda needs to put the finishing touches to Sonja's dress."

He lingered in front of the mirror for a moment longer, then moved to kiss his mother's cheek. He reached and lightly tugged a stray lock of Sonja's hair as he passed by her. "Good luck, sister dear. No tears."

Sonja scowled at him, making him laugh as he headed out of the room. Frieda closed the door behind him, then crossed the room to help the elderly woman in the closet bring out the gown they had been working on for the last few months. Anna all but bounced with excitement as they set the mannequin down before the mirror that Fredrik had been preening in.

"Do you like it?" Anna asked, biting her lower lip and folding her arms as she waited to see her daughter's reaction.

Sonja stared at the dress, unsure of what she thought to be exact. Though she was a princess of the blood, never in her life had she owned anything as exquisite as what stood before her.

The fabric was a deep, rich blue that reminded her of the sky at night. It had been cut in the modern style, with a wide skirt and tight bodice that she already knew would require a corset. The neckline was low, almost even with the sleeves that could barely be called such since they fell off the shoulders and did nothing to cover her arms. A very sheer overlay covered the whole of it, and bore swirling patterns that glimmered in the light. She couldn't decide if the tiny, sparkling embellishments were meant to be snowflakes or stars.

Astonishment gradually ebbed into suspicion as she looked over to her mother.

"Mama…"

Anna's smile tightened at the tone. "What?"

"This is a very, very fancy dress."

"Well, it should be," the older princess insisted. "You're royalty. Royalty is supposed to be fancy. Now go try it on. I've been dying to see you in it."

Anna urged Sonja towards the gown and the women who waited to help her into it. Gerda was a little rough in her lacing of the corset, but Frieda came behind her to loosen it when she turned her attention towards the gown. Sonja was pleased to see she had been forgiven for her earlier teasing, and found her more grateful than ever to have Frieda as a friend.

"A lot of princes will be at the ball as well," Frieda whispered to her as she worked.

Correction, _now _Sonja was more grateful for her than ever.

She had known that there was something amiss, and she should have guessed that it was more than just Magnus' birthday that had her mother wanting her to look like the princess she was. The thought had never occurred to her that the princesses who would be arriving that evening to meet Magnus would bring male relatives with them for a similar purpose: To make a match.

No one said anything else until Sonja was laced into her dress. Gerda and Frieda stepped back as she turned to face her mother, making sure that nothing was impeding the view of her. Anna covered her mouth, tears glimmering in her eyes as she deliberately looked Sonja over. The reaction was not the one Sonja had been expecting. Squeals of delight, yes. Utter silence and tears, not so much.

"Is it that bad?" she asked, only half-joking.

Anna shook her head, dropping her hands to clasp them at her chest. "Oh, Sonja…"

She paused to gather something, be it her words or nerves. When she found it, she continued, her voice lowered to a whisper. "I wish your father could see you."

Strength. She'd had to pause to gather her strength.

Sonja moved forward and wrapped her arms around Anna's shoulders to pull her into a gentle embrace. Gratefully, Anna wrapped her arms around the younger woman in turn, and pressed her cheek to hers. She could feel the hot droplets of her mother's tears against her skin.

The court had officially mourned the death of Sonja's father for six months, but her mother had never stopped. She had coped with his absence to the best of her abilities, but the grief was still there, buried down deep. The first few months had been difficult. She'd broken down more than once, and during those times Elsa had been the one to take care of all of them.

She had trained Magnus, taken Sonja up the mountain, and tucked Fredrik in at night. Whenever a servant came and whispered that Anna had asked for her, the Queen would drop everything and go to console her sister. Sonja could remember hearing her mother's sobs and her aunt's soothing words through Anna's bedroom door until there finally came a day when the door swung open and there stood Anna. She was still in her black mourning gown, but she had a look of pure determination and cheer emblazoned on her face. That afternoon Anna took her children away from their tutors and spent the day in the garden with them simply playing games and telling stories.

Anna never locked herself away from them again after that, but there were still times when she would excuse herself for a little while to sit by herself, and there were still times when she would be moved to tears. Each year, however, her clothes became a shade lighter and they all took that as a good sign.

Sonja did not pull back from her mother, but waited for her to draw back when she felt the need to.

"I'm sorry," Anna said, finally releasing Sonja tp wipe her cheeks. When her cheeks were dry, she reached to brush off the residual tears lingering on Sonja's. "I just feel like you grew up overnight."

"Rest assured, Mama," Sonja replied, "I've been working on it for the last twenty-one years."

Anna laughed at the response, and even Frieda and Gerda cracked smiles. The quip seemed to give Anna the boost she needed, and she returned to her earlier chipper manner. She turned Sonja towards the mirror and ran her fingers through the half-damp blonde locks. The entire time she played with Sonja's hair, she chatted merrily about her ideas for Sonja's hairstyle, and even reminisced about other parties she had thrown over the years.

For the moment all was well.


	3. Chapter 3

The hairdresser, a man named Cyrille, was nothing less than a miracle worker as far as Sonja was concerned. The long, snarled locks were smoothed and curled with a skill she knew she would never possess. He opted for a simple look, one that would be easy to replicate should she mess it up somehow. Jeweled combs were used to pin half of the long ringlets back from her face. The other half were left to fall over her shoulders in a golden cascade.

When he finally turned her towards the mirror at her mother's disused vanity, Sonja nearly gasped. She did not recognize herself without her thick winter clothes or wind-tangled hair. The sight pleased her in a way, but in that same moment it left her disoriented.

That wasn't Sonja. Must be that Sophia creature people talked about.

She studied the reflection in silence. The hair color and eyes were her father's, and the faint freckles reminded her of those that still speckled her mother's face. Even now, however, she could not see more of them in herself. There were not even traces of her aunt or grandparents there, and somehow the fact was more glaringly obvious now that she had been scrubbed and polished.

"Frieda," Anna said, somewhere behind her daughter. "Do you know if that photographer has arrived yet?"

"I can find out, Your Highness."

"Please do. Thank you."

Frieda bowed and left the room to do as she was bade, leaving Sonja with only her mother and the hairdresser. Gerda had taken a seat in the corner and was snoring contentedly. No one bothered her since they all figured that the eighty-year-old woman had long since earned the right to sleep wherever she wished.

"Have you heard about photography, Sonja?" Anna asked, looking at her daughter's reflection as she spoke. "It's the most fascinating thing!"

Sonja smiled and nodded. "I've heard of it from Fredrik. He loves to go on and on about all things fashionable."

"He convinced Elsa to send for one," her mother replied. "And I'm thankful of it. We haven't had a proper family picture in years. And this time we won't have to sit for hours for a painter. Do you know how dreadful it is sitting for a portrait with a teething baby on your lap?"

Anna threw up her hands and made a disgruntled noise, making Sonja laugh. She could only vaguely remember the experience, having been around four years old at the time, and what she could recall of it had been an itchy dress and being bored to tears. It was an experience that she had no desire to repeat, but knew that she would probably have to in the next few months. There was a long standing tradition within their family that when the age of majority was reached, an official court portrait was commissioned. So far she had avoided it, but she knew she could only put it off for so long.

"Your Highness," Cyrille said, interrupting the two women as politely as he could. His gaze was focused on Anna now. "Do you wish for me to set your hair as well?"

"Oh. No," Anna replied. "No, that won't be necessary."

Sonja turned in her chair to look up to her mother. "Why not?"

"I couldn't. It'd be wasted effort. There's no reason for me to dress up."

Despite being the official organizer of royal events, Anna did not don regalia or make herself up as other ladies of the court did. Not unless she absolutely had to. She preferred to remain neatly composed but not fancifully adorned. Her gowns were as fine as any princess' were, though she preferred to keep them in shades of gray. Even her jewelry was simplistic: just her wedding ring and a locket that once belonged to her mother, Queen Iduna.

Anna offered every excuse she could think of, all the while fidgeting with her fingers. Her daughter listened to her patiently, having heard such excuses before. When she finally ended her list, Sonja spoke up.

"But Mama," she wheedled, "it is Magnus' birthday. A grand, royal occasion." Anna bit her lower lip, still hesitating. "And... This will be your first photograph."

When her mother's eyes widened, Sonja knew she had won. Though Anna was not a vain creature by any stretch of the imagination, the prospect of looking drab or dishevelled in something as lasting as a photograph was not an appealing one.

"You children are getting too clever," Anna sighed, her tone both impressed and fairly exasperated. She motioned for Sonja to get up, which she did without question, and then sat down in the vacated chair.

While the hairdresser began to unpin and unwind Anna's braid, Sonja crept over to the open closet. Her gown had been returned to its stand to wait for the time she would actually wear it, and so she had resumed wearing her dressing gown while the hairdresser was there. As much as she liked her new gown, it was far easier to move around without it.

The light of day that spilled in through the open windows faintly illuminated the inside of the closet and the rows of dresses that were housed there. Most of what Sonja found was what she had expected: varying shades of gray, peppered with a few black gowns. All of the garments were pretty in their styles, but not what she sought. Each one was discarded until she reached the very end of the row.

The back of the closet was too dark for her to tell, but she was confident that this one was neither black nor grey. She grabbed the hanger that held the dress up, and hauled it back into the brightly lit bedroom. A hopeful smile tugged at her lips as daylight fell on the fabric, confirming her suspicions. Not all of her mother's finery had been stored away. This gown, at least, had survived the purge.

"Mama, why don't you wear this tonight?" she asked. "I've never seen you in it."

Anna looked at the mirror to see what it was that Sonja held, and her brow furrowed at the sight of the long-forgotten gown. Turning in her seat, she stared at the dress, then Sonja, and then the dress again.

"Sonja, I don't know…"

"Why not? It's lovely and you will look wonderful in it."

Anna bit her lower lip in contemplation, but did not give in. "I'm sure, but-"

"Please?" Sonja asked, stressing the word more than she usually would. "Just for tonight?"

Silence enveloped the room. The hairdresser looked from one princess to the other, unsure of what might happen next. Gerda had even roused from her nap to see what was going on. Sonja bit her lower lip to try to keep from smiling in case she lost this battle. Her mother could be incredibly obstinate when she decided she needed to be, it was a trait that she had passed on to all her children. She often out-stubborned them with more experience though.

"Just tonight," Anna finally conceded.

Everyone released a collective breath. Sonja giggled happily, victoriously, as she laid the gown out on the foot of her mother's bed.

It was a beautiful dress, every bit a match for Sonja's own even though it was of an older style. The skirt was not as wide as the blue gown's, neither was the neckline as low. Gold thread had been used on the embroidery that created crocuses and Nordic patterns at the hems of the skirt and long sleeves, and on the bodice. It had to have been made before her father's death, but Sonja could not remember her mother ever wearing it before.

The hairdresser set to work on Anna's hair, chatting amicably all the while he did. No more than five minutes had passed before Gerda resumed napping, and Sonja seized the chance to slip quietly from the room. She had not yet made it to the staircase when her escape was cut short by the appearance of her elder brother. He was almost completely up the staircase by the time she reached the top of the stairs. His brow arched at the sight of her, and his lips quirked with amusement.

"You look a little underdressed for a ball," Magnus greeted.

Sonja smiled in return, not missing a beat with her response. "Now you've gone and spoiled the surprise. I was going to be the entertainment tonight."

Magnus shook his head, chuckling as he stepped onto the landing where she waited. "As much as I appreciate your thoughtful gift, Sonja, we're not Ptolemies. Maybe you could get me a nice pen instead."

They both laughed, though the sounds were drastically different. Magnus' laughter, like his voice, was deep and soft, while Sonja's was light and loud. He had always been good-natured and quick-witted, always willing to play along with a joke. It had endeared him to most of the people he had encountered over the course of his life. Sonja figured it was also a large part of why Frieda was so enamoured of him.

"Is Mama decent?" he asked once their amusement settled. "I wanted to speak to her about tonight."

This time it was Sonja's turn to arch a curious brow. "What about?"

Magnus hesitated, almost as though he wasn't sure he could tell her about what was on his mind. She was stung by the thought. There wasn't a time that she could remember that she and her brothers weren't open and honest with one another.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to choose a wife," he admitted. His brows pulled towards one another, a clear indication of his distress. While Magnus had always been able to keep a stoic façade before a crowd of strangers, he had never had much luck in concealing his feelings from his family. "After all, Aunt Elsa is still pretty young and healthy. There isn't really a need for me to be wed just yet."

Sonja was soothed by his confession. It was what she had been expecting for the last few weeks. Last few years, if she were being honest. A knowing smile tugged at her lips as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Forgive me, Magnus," she began, choosing her words with precision. The smile never wavered. "But you've always said she wanted a big family. Shouldn't you be starting on that sooner rather than later?"

Magnus' ears turned redder than the carpet they stood on. "Well, yes, but-"

Try as he might, he could not find the words he wished to use. Sonja couldn't help but chuckle at how flustered he had become. His cheeks began to turn pink as well.

"Freddie's right," he finally stated. "You're not a lady."

She laughed even more at that. "Of course not. I'm a sister."

Magnus wrinkled her nose at her with no real spite. "Well, what of you? Shouldn't you be lovesick and pining over someone?"

"Not a chance," she replied with a dismissive wave. "I intend to become a rugged spinster with a manor full of cats."

"You're allergic to cats."

"Fine then. A manor full of reindeer."

He laughed at that, shaking his head again. Whatever discomfort he had felt was gone, replaced by his initial amusement with her. Reaching out, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Little sister, you are flawless."

"I wish more people realized that," she joked. "But don't let me keep you. You need to go weasel your way out of a wedding, and I need to run an errand."

"Just don't muss your hair," he said, moving to let her start down the stairs. "The last time you made Cyrille cry, we all suffered for it."

She turned towards him and made a face, her hands raised in an almost pleading pose. "I was six, Magnus. Give me a little credit."

His chuckling could be heard until he had disappeared from sight, behind the door of their mother's room.

Now unimpeded, Sonja hurried down the stairs and down the hall towards her room. Frieda's chair and basket still sat by the window, but there was no sign of her in the hallway or Sonja's room. The tub had long since been emptied and removed to storage, leaving her room in its original state of clutter.

Maps, news articles, and even handwritten stories were pinned to the walls, with places marked and notations made. The bookcases by the wide window were crammed full with tales of mystery, mythology, adventure, and histories. An atlas lay open on the window seat, and ribbons jutted out from various marked pages. In the corner nearest the window an old paper lantern with a sun painted on it was strung up to the ceiling.

Her bed was neatly made and her pack of gear sat where it always did on the trunk at the footboard. She moved the pack to the floor and knelt to open the old wooden chest. Inside there was nothing of value to anyone but her.

A ragged doll with a wooden head and painted face, a length of cord, a hollowed out egg kept in a smaller box, a bundle of letters from Corona, and a number of other personal treasures she had kept over the course of her life. The most important of all was tucked in the very back, in a box carved with childish, geometric designs. She grabbed the box and closed the chest so she could sit on the lid.

Opening the little, flat box felt like it required a ceremony, but she had none to use so she simply opened it. Her fingers brushed over the patterns that dotted the burgundy fabric, tracing them as she had a thousand times before. She had committed every line and dot to memory years ago, but she never tired of seeing them. As old as what the sash was, it was still heavy and sturdy. It had been made to last, though it had frayed at the ends long before she was born. Despite that fact, she lifted the fabric with all the care that others showed to Venetian glass.

The sash had always served as a talisman to her, and was one of the few things she had that not only belonged to her father, but that he had gifted to her. The memory made her smile even while tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

She had been so worried about scaling the cliff face. Though it had only been seven feet tall, only a little ledge, six-year-old Sonja had thought it was quite a long way to fall.

"_You'll do fine," Kristoff assured her. He smiled to try and encourage her, but her knees still trembled at the prospect of broken bones. _

"_But Pappa, I'm not nearly as brave as you are," she replied. _

_The smile never wavered as he knelt before her, if anything it only grew kinder. He reached for her shoulders and rested his large, calloused hands there. "You are brave, Sonja." Back then he was the only one who called her by that name. "Don't ever tell yourself that you're not."_

_Kristoff pressed a kiss to her forehead and squeezed her shoulders before rising to his feet again. When his daughter remained dubious, he untied the sash he always wore and bent to tie it around her waist._

"_There," he said, straightening again when he finished. "Now that is a very special sash given to me by Nana Bulda."_

_Sonja toyed with the frayed end of the fabric. _"_Why is it special?"_

"_It gives the wearer courage. Go ahead and look at the cliff." She turned to look up to the cliff again. "What do you think? Is it still too tall?"_

_Sonja shook her head. Somehow in the last five minutes the prospect of climbing had become less frightening. In fact, she was excited to do it. She smiled._

"_I can do this."_

In all the other daunting times of her life, Sonja had worn the sash so she could remember to have courage. Tonight would be no exception.

Closing the box, she tucked it under her arm and left her room. By now she was certain her mother would be missing her. More than that, she was curious as to how Magnus' conversation had gone.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Sonja returned to her mother's rooms, Magnus was gone. Anna was still seated at her vanity, chatting quite merrily with Cyrille the hairdresser.

"There you are, Sonja, darling!" her mother greeted at the sight of Sonja's reflection in her mirror. "You just missed your brother. Poor dear nearly made himself sick with worry."

Sonja arched a brow as she moved to take a seat on the edge of the bed. The covers were already rumpled by previous visitors.

"Why was he upset?"

"He thought we were going to make him choose a bride tonight."

"You're not?"

Anna turned her stunned gaze to her daughter. Cyrille said something in muted French that Sonja could not quite hear. She recognized the tone as an aggravated one. He was not quite finished with his work.

"Of course not! I would never force any of you to do something that made you so unhappy."

The tension in Sonja's shoulders eased. Well, at least they would not mind if she did not warm to any of the princes there tonight.

Her mother continued. "No, all of this is one big charade for the other kingdoms. Everyone has been getting restless about the fact that Arendelle has made no foreign alliances."

"Why is it their business anyways?" Sonja asked.

"It's just politics, darling. And Salama, that brilliant woman, suggested that we throw this big party to make it look like we're inspecting prospective suitors so that the ambassadors and other royals will calm down and leave us alone about the matter."

That was a brilliant strategy, now that Sonja thought about it.

"No one plays the diplomacy game like a Maldonian princess," Anna finished with a giddy grin.

A knock sounded at the door, and both princesses turned to see who it was. Frieda stood at the threshold, and she inclined her head politely to them.

"The photographer is waiting in the garden," she said. "Her Majesty is already there with His Royal Highness."

Anna beamed and looked to Cyrille. "Is my hair finished?"

"_Oui, madame. _You are free to leave my chair," he replied, rather dejectedly, and swept her a bow.

His timing was unfortunate. As he bowed, Anna rose from her seat in a rush and managed to smack his nose with the back of her hand.

"Oh! I am so sorry! Are you okay, Cyrille?"

Concern creased her brow as she moved to check on him. He lifted a hand to keep her from touching him.

"I am perfectly fine, _madame._ I have been slapped by women not as fair as you who intended the pain."

Anna bit her lower lip and twisted her fingers about in an anxious gesture. She apologized again as the hairdresser excused himself so the princesses could change into their dresses. Frieda and Gerda helped Anna first, and then her daughter. They had barely finished tying Sonja's laces before Anna linked her arm through the younger woman's and led her out to the garden.

Their family was lingering near the duck pond, just a few feet away from where a man had erected an odd looking device on a tripod. Salama was helping straighten Fredrik's cravat while Magnus and Elsa conversed in their usual low, steady tones. They all wore smiles that only brightened at the sight of Anna and Sonja.

"My God, Sophia." Fredrik gaped. "You're a girl."

Magnus nudged him with his elbow. "What Freddy means is that you look lovely, little sister."

"He's just jealous that I'm prettier than he is," Sonja replied without hesitation. "But thank you, Magnus."

"And Mum!" Fredrik pulled away from Salama to inspect the gown his mother wore. An approving smile tugged at his lips as his gaze met hers. "You're stunning."

Anna flushed and waved him off, though she flashed a delighted smile.

While her brothers and mother conversed, Sonja turned her attention to her aunt. Elsa, like her sister and their mother, was hailed far and wide as a great beauty. Even now she received a number of marriage proposals but gracefully refused them all. Though she had never said as much, the family knew she had no want of a husband. Especially since Salama had come to live with them.

Salama approached Elsa and brushed her fingers against the Queen's. They exchanged smiles but no words. Often they had no use for them. Stolen touches and glances were all they needed to carry on full conversations.

"Your Majesty?"

Elsa started at the voice of a man, and turned to see who had spoken. She relaxed at the sight of the photographer and drew away from Salama.

"Yes, Mr. Stewart?"

"Everything is ready when you are," he replied, indicating a pair of chairs in the shade of the tall trees nearest the pond.

Elsa inclined her head to thank him and turned her attention towards Anna. "Anna? Are you ready?"

"Of course!"

She breezed past her sons to join her sister. Much as she had done with Sonja in her bedroom, Anna linked her arm through Elsa's. Together they crossed over to the chairs. The boys followed after them.

"Are you going to join us, Salama?" Sonja asked, looking over to her.

Salama folded her hands in front of her as she moved to stand near Sonja. "Not for this one. This one is more of a state photograph."

"But for the family one?"

"Perhaps," she replied. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she looked to Sonja.

Not for the first time Sonja was struck by how beautiful Salama was. She had the look of a princess, she had decided long ago, which made sense since that was what she was. Even if Salama refused to use the title as a general rule.

Sonja remembered when Salama had come to them not long after their father had died. There had never been so lavish a progression made into Arendelle before or since. The King of Maldonia had spared no expense in making sure that his youngest daughter made an impression on the monarch that so many people called "the Snow Queen".

The Maldonians arrived in a small fleet of ornate ships, most of which bore gifts for the royal family. Sonja remembered watching their approach from her bedroom window, squeezed in between her brothers. They did not get to see the ships moor or their occupants disembark since they were required to dress and wait in the throne room with their aunt.

Their mother had came out of her room long enough to attend the opening ceremonies. She had looked so thin and pale and tiny in her wide, black dress that Sonja had been scared that she would die too. Elsa sat on the edge of her throne, her posture perfect. The gown she'd worn sparkled in the sunlight that poured in through the opened windows.

When Salama entered the room she had sparkled just as brilliantly. Her rich gown and hijab dripped with tiny jewels, her bracelets had jingled. Everyone had fallen silent at the sight of her, and Elsa's jaw had fallen open. The Queen managed to regain her composure before the procession reached her.

The purpose of Salama's visit had been to negotiate trade routes. The business was taken care of in a fortnight, but the Maldonian princess stayed for another. And then another. Eventually, she had written to her father to request his blessing in remaining in Arendelle. He had happily granted it.

Sonja smiled at the memories, and at Salama. Though she did not know for certain, she was fairly certain that the older princess had a large part in bringing her mother out of her self-imposed confinement.

"You must sit with us for the second picture," she insisted. "It is for family, after all."

"If I agree will you go over there to take the state picture?"

"Yes."

"Then I will join you, princess. Now go."

Sonja's smile turned victorious as she gathered her skirts in her hands and crossed over to where the rest of her family was settling into place. Her mother and aunt had sat in the chairs, turned towards one another, with their hands in their laps. Magnus stood to the right of Elsa and Fredrik stood to the left of Anna, which left a space between and slightly behind the two chairs for Sonja to stand.

The process took longer than Sonja had anticipated but at least she did not have to sit for a painter. Once the first picture was taken they motioned for Salama to join them. The younger princess moved closer to her mother so that the older one could stand by her aunt.

They had taken a third picture, this one much more informal than the other two, when a butler approached and swept a deep bow to Elsa.

"Your Majesty, the gates have been opened. The guests are arriving."

Elsa opened her mouth to speak, but Anna cut her off.

"I'll go see to them," she said. "You can stay here and get a few more pictures."

"I'll go with you," Sonja offered.

For a moment it looked as though Elsa was going to refuse. However, she relented.

"We shall be out shortly. Thank you, Anna."

Anna beamed. "That's what sisters are for."

The others remained in the garden while Anna and Sonja went into the castle. All the while Anna spoke animatedly about a variety of topics that Sonja had some difficulty in following. Sonja did not care, however. She was simply delighted to see her mother in such high spirits.

By the time that the princes, Elsa, and Salama joined them in the main ballroom only a few guests had arrived. Most of them were ambassadors who wished to introduce their families to the royals before sending the children back to their nurses.

Sonja had gotten cornered by an ambassador from one of the more southerly nations, though she could not for the life of her recall which it was. He was a very talkative man so she did not have to say much. His wife, on the other hand, was eerily silent. Almost condescendingly so.

And their daughters… Though she generally had no problems with children, Sonja was unsure of what to make of the eleven and twelve years old girls. The older one, dark-haired like her mother, pinched her younger sister when she thought no one was watching. The younger, a ginger like her father, bore the abuse as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. What really baffled Sonja was the fact that more than once she caught their mother look their way and yet she never did anything about it.

More than a few times over the years she and Freddy had been scolded severely for being mean to one another. On at least one occasion after one of their fights involving projectile food stuffs at breakfast, their father had punished them by making them subsist for a day on bread and reindeer milk. She had not minded so much, but Freddy had been an angel for the rest of the week.

This woman, however, almost seemed to approve of the meanness.

"Ambassador Tremaine. Madame. If you would excuse me, I think my mother is calling for me," Sonja lied. She flashed them a polite smile and inclined her head to them, a gesture that was returned, and moved away to seek out her mother.

People were beginning to crowd the ballroom. Though she had yet to touch anyone, the feel of the wide skirts of other women brushing against her own made her wish she could shrink just so she could have more space.

An arm slipped about her waist and someone fell into step beside her. Sonja started at the sudden contact and turned to see who had grasped her.

"You look incredibly determined to be somewhere else," the lithe brunette woman greeted. Her gaze was riveted before her and a wry smile pulled at perfect lips.

Sonja stopped in her tracks, making her companion stop as well. They faced once another with a giggle and then fell into an eager embrace.

"Penelope! When you get here?"

The brunette giggled again and squeezed her in a grip that would have knocked the breath from a grown man. "Just this evening. We had to dress on the ship because Papa made us late."

"Did he come too?"

"He did. With no small effort on Mama's part."

"Well, understandable. The last time he came to Arendelle he wound up stuck in an endless winter."

Penelope rolled her eyes, finally releasing her cousin. "Yes, but that was almost thirty years ago. He was just being melodramatic."

"Well then, where is everyone?" Sonja asked, rising onto her tiptoes to get a better look at the crowd to seek out the rest of her family.

"I think Helena and Jane are giving Magnus a hard time- you know they live for that. My mother and yours were closing in on the refreshment table. Papa went to greet Her Majesty, and I think Freddy ran away with Konstantin to survey the selection of princesses."

"Oh dear. The royal family of Corona shows up and the entire ball goes to chaos," Sonja teased. She dropped back down to standing flat-footed.

"Of course," Penelope said, waving off her words with a smirk. "It's not a party until we show up."

"Well, the night is young and I'm supposed to flirt with princes for the good of the nation. Think you can help me?"

"I'm mildly offended you even had to ask that."

As though to prove her point, Penelope flashed a smile at a man their age as he was walking by. The smoldering gesture made him trip over his own polished boots.

"Hello," she all but purred. "Princess Penelope Fitzherbert. Pleasure to meet you."

The young noble could not quite get his words out, and Sonja seized the opportunity to drag her cousin away by her arm. She giggled as she did.

"Pen, you are so bad."

"And you're not bad enough. Together we're unconquerable."

The princesses dissolved into laughter that made more than one guest look their way in curiosity. They made no gesture to invite anyone else into their private world just yet. There was plenty of time for others later. Right now was for them alone.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a peculiar mindset that Sonja held when it came to royal parties. At the announcement of a ball her gut would churn with dread and displeasure. She would bemoan it to her siblings and Frieda during the weeks that led up to it.

Then the ball finally occurred and she wound up thoroughly enjoying herself.

The musicians were masters of their art and the music never stopped or faltered save for the designated breaks that the band took to recuperate. The people who attended the Arendelle royal balls always expected there to be magic seen from the Queen and Crown Prince, but Sonja swore that the real magic was in the notes of the music that never failed to move them all.

She was not the only one who laughed as she spun from one crooked arm to the next along the line of dancers that included both her brothers and all her cousins. When she reached the Prince Consort of Corona, Pen's father, Eugene, she flushed with delight at how he twirled her about so easily before passing her back to her original partner. Eugene had always been her favorite to dance with. He was spirited.

"Eugene! You nearly threw her!" the Queen of Corona chided her husband. She was grinning as she clapped in time with the music.

Much the same as Sonja's mother and aunt, her cousin Rapunzel had only grown more beautiful the older she became. Her hair was streaked through with wisps of silver, particularly at her temples. The angular face that Sonja had seen in their wedding portrait, which hung in the royal gallery with others of its kind, had rounded out after bringing four children into the world. The lines at the corners of her wide green eyes bore testament to just how often she laughed and smiled.

There was not a time in her life that Sonja could remember seeing the Queen's face lit up with anything but sheer delight. She was an embodiment of sunshine that warmed everyone who came in contact with her, and Sonja had adored her from an early age. All the children did.

Eugene's jaw dropped open in mock offense. He was not as lean as what he had been in the wedding portrait either. Over the years he had grown very accustomed to being a royal, and his pants had been let out more than once to accommodate the fact. No one could deny that he was still every bit as handsome as he had been in his roguish youth. His hair had started going grey not long after his eldest child, Crown Princess Helena, was born. Now it was almost completely silver and matched his neatly trimmed beard almost perfectly.

"Blondie, she nearly threw me! She's stronger than she looks!"

The dancers burst into more laughter that threw off their rhythm for a couple of beats. They recovered when Sonja and the young prince she was partnered with joined hands and lifted them high so the others could pass under the "bridge" they made. She leaned in a little further to accommodate for how much shorter her partner was than her.

She had forgotten the name of the dance; it was a reel of some sort from America. It was not one of the dignified court dances by any means, which may have been a big contributing factor to why she enjoyed it so much. The dance was fun for both those involved and those who watched.

When the dance finally drew to an end, her partner approached her, and swept her a gallant bow. Sonja could not help an amused smile. Prince Eric of Pontus was little more than ten, but highly intelligent and far more polite than half the adults she had met. A fact that was no doubt attributed to the devoted attentions of his manservant.

"Thank you for the dance, Princess Sofia," Eric said, rising from his bow with a smile. His wide blue eyes sparkled with delight.

Sonja smiled and swept him a curtsy. "Thank you, Prince Eric. Should you wish to dance again, I shall save another reel for you on my card."

"I would like that a lot, but I think that Grimsby is getting tired."

They both looked to the tall, thin man who stood off to the side of the dance floor. His posture was rigid, but the imposing figure he cut was undermined when he yawned.

"I should probably go put him to bed." Eric leaned towards her and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He's getting old, you know."

"I'll leave you to it then," Sonja replied, unable to help laughing at his mannerisms. "Have a good night, Your Highness."

Sonja watched the prince head towards his guardian before she wove her way through the throng of people gathering on the dance floor. She wasted no time in retreating to a far corner where no one seemed to gravitate. With a heavy, contented sigh she collapsed into a chair without a thought towards propriety.

Of course, almost everyone had done away with propriety by this late hour. The court of Arendelle was not one that operated on a set of rigid rules that had to be adhered to at every waking minute. Granted, there were business protocols and the like, but none for the royal parties. The one importance of a royal ball was that everyone enjoyed themselves. No one minded such an arrangement so long as everyone behaved.

She leaned back into the velvet backrest of the gilded chair, and looked out towards the room. Before that moment she had not slowed down to take in the scene.

The walls were draped with heavy tapestries woven with the royal colors of purple, green, and gold. There were small triangular banners bearing the emblem of golden crocuses that crisscrossed the ceiling every few feet. The great chandeliers that hung overhead were bright with dozens of small candles.

There were many who had expected a grand display of ice and snow since Queen Elsa and Crown Prince Magnus shared the same wintry powers. However, the idea had been dismissed at the start of planning. The spring night was still cool enough that the guests would have spent the whole evening shivering if they had.

The disappointment of the guests had been alleviated by the hostess' and her heir's garments. Sonja craned her neck a bit to see if she could catch sight of the glittering, icy fabric that composed her aunt's gown and her brother's suit.

Queen Elsa was seated on a throne at the other end of the room with Salama at her side. Another, smaller, throne on the other side of Elsa was empty. No doubt Anna had gone off with Rapunzel again. Sonja smiled at the thought of them before looking back to the Queen and her companion. They were both dressed exquisitely, and both had been viewed with awe more than a few times.

Salama often wore clothing traditional of her adoptive homeland, but only in the privacy of the inner sanctum of the castle where the family lived. At all official occasions, especially those at which she acted as a representative of Maldonia, she wore the clothing of the land she had been born to. Her deep teal gown had a high waist and a full skirt that only fell halfway down her calves. She did not wear a hoop skirt under her gown like the other women did, but rather a pair of trousers with legs so wide they looked like a second skirt. The high-necked bodice, long sleeves, and broad hems were trimmed in elaborate golden embroidery. Her hair, ears, and neck were covered by a hijab the same golden hue of the embroidery. Between her clothing and her regal comportment it would be easy for her to be mistaken as the Queen of Arendelle.

The gown Elsa had designed for the occasion held echoes of the traditional Arendelle style; high-collared and long-sleeved. The sparkling skirt was not wide or full as current fashions dictated, neither was it as narrow as fashions of her youth had been. Instead it was somewhere in between, much like Salama's skirt was, though Elsa's hem fell to the floor and trailed behind her when she walked. As long as what the train of the dress was, the tail of the glittering jacket… cape… Well, Sonja was not entirely sure what to call it, but whatever it was it was incredibly long. Long enough that it rest in a pile at the Queen's feet.

As Sonja watched them, Salama leaned in to say something to Elsa, who tilted her head closer to her companion to better hear her. With a soft, fond smile, the Queen nodded and rose to her feet. She did not sit down again until after Salama had left her own seat and exited the ballroom. The Queen watched her until she was out of sight, her smile never wavering.

Magnus, on the other hand, was on the dance floor, waltzing with a petite brunette that might have been Freddy's age. She wore a rich gown that seemed to glimmer in the candlelight of the chandeliers. The garment was dull in comparison to the brilliant silver of the Crown Prince's coat and cravat, and even the pale blue fabric of his pants. The crowd had drawn back to give them plenty of room to dance, but remained close enough to hear any conversation that was made.

_Vultures_, Sonja thought with a little snort.

"Wow. He's gotten really good at dancing!"

She started at the sudden voice, and turned to see who had spoken. Recognition of the voice happened at the same moment she laid eyes on the short snowman.

"Olaf!" she exclaimed. He grinned as she leaned to throw her arms around him. "We thought you weren't coming back for a few more days!"

The twigs of his fingers snagged in the gauzy overlay of her dress, but she did not mind any. Olaf was as dear to her as anyone else in her family. She did not even mind when the snowflakes of his flurry caught in her hair and began to melt, leaving it damp.

"I wasn't, but you know how cranky brothers can get."

"I do." Laughing warmly, she pulled back to look at him. "How is Marshmallow?"

"He's good. Still spends most of his time with Powderpuff. Crazy kids."

Olaf rolled his eyes good-naturedly, making Sonja giggle again.

"Well, I'm glad you're back. Otherwise you would have missed the party."

"I'm glad to be back, too. It's so quiet up in the mountains."

"You're in the right place for noise and mirth if that is what you're after."

Sonja swept a hand towards the gathered crowd of richly dressed guests. Most of them were still dancing, but more and more were beginning to take to the seats along the edges of the room. Those who were seated held flutes of champagne and were laughing at the stories they told one another. Olaf bounced with excitement.

"This is awesome! Do you mind if I go socialize?"

The Princess shook her head, smiling as she motioned for him to do as he pleased. "Enjoy the evening, Olaf. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're going to bed?" The snowman looked disappointed.

"My slippers are beginning to pinch my feet," she admitted sheepishly. "And I would dearly love to be rid of this corset."

If snowpeople could blush, no doubt Olaf would have. Instead he just chuckled and waved dismissively with both his arms.

"Say no more. Do you want me to tell your mom?"

Sonja nodded. "I would be very grateful. Thank you, Olaf."

Olaf waddled off after they said their good-nights, and disappeared into the thinning crowd of revelers. Gathering her skirts, Sonja started making her way around the edge of the room until she reached the exit. She had not quite made it through the tall, open doors when she felt a cool, gloved hand on her arm.

She turned to face her brother with a smile that faltered at the sight of the nervousness etched into his features.

"Magnus, what's wrong?" she whispered, her tone urgent.

Magnus' ears turned red. "Oh! Nothing. Everything's fine. I just… Are you going to bed?"

"That was my plan, yes," she replied, relaxing her stance. "Unless you needed me to stay."

"Oh. No. I think everything is beginning to wind down. I was just hoping that… if you saw Frieda you would give her a message for me?"

A wry smile curled Sonja's lips. Of course she would see Frieda. He knew that the only person who had ever had the patience to wait on her was their childhood friend. "And just what might that message be?"

"Would you ask her to meet me in the gardens in about an hour?"

"I suppose," she replied, feigning an imposed-upon sigh.

The set of Magnus' shoulders relaxed, and he reached to pull her into a crushing hug. Or at least, it would have been crushing if she had not adapted to exuberant embracers early in life. It was a hazard of belonging to a family that loved to hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before releasing her.

"Thank you, little sister," he replied sincerely. "I owe you one."

Sonja waved him off with a joking gesture, and started towards the door again. "I'll add it to the list. At this rate, I'll inherit the kingdom, and you'll still be Crown Prince. You'll owe me too much."

They both laughed at the notion, knowing that she had no more interest in running a kingdom than Freddy had in joining the clergy. She vanished out the door and disappeared down a back hallway that led towards the servants' stairs which were closer to the ballroom than the main ones.

A giggling caught her attention as she passed by one of the first floor sitting rooms. Curious as to who was giggling, she slowed enough to peek through the partially opened door. There were half a dozen people in the dimly lit room, the genders equally divided.

The tall, lanky brunette Prince of Corona, her cousin Konstantin, was playing a round of billiards with another prince who she recognized but whose name she forgot. He was about five years younger than her brother and cousin, but they enjoyed his company and permitted him to tag along whenever the three of them wound up in the same vicinity. A pair of identical princesses watched them with boredom.

Towards the back of the room Sonja was just able to make out the silhouette of her younger brother. Freddy was leaned towards a third young princess, speaking to her in hushed tones. She giggled at something he said and swatted at him, making him laugh.

Sonja took a step towards the door, ready to break up their little party. The last thing they needed was to have Freddy challenged to a duel over the honor of a slighted little sister. Before she entered the room, however, she spotted Gerda sitting on a settee in the corner, watching the couples intently. Now knowing they had a chaperone, she relaxed and backed away from the room to continue on her trek.


	6. Chapter 6

Sonja was startled to find Frieda seated outside her bedroom door on a low stool. She had thought that it would be at least a little longer before Frieda came to help her change. Usually, she did not wait for the princess like this.

Frieda's clothes were the same as those she had wore that afternoon, but now she had a red shawl draped about her shoulders. In her hands she held a wooden hoop with fabric stretched tight over it, and she was stitching with a precision that had been the envy of many a seamstress. A candle was balanced on the window sill next to the door, on the opposite side of the waiting woman. She hummed while she embroidered.

"You didn't come to the party."

Frieda started at the sudden sound. Looking up to Sonja, she made a disapproving noise.

"It's not polite to sneak up on people, Your Highness," she replied.

"Frieda, it's just us. You know you can call me Sonja." As always when Sonja made the suggestion, the other blonde woman looked reluctant to comply. "You didn't answer me, by the way."

Frieda dropped her gaze to her embroidery, and idly traced the pattern with the tip of her finger.

"It does not matter, so do not trouble yourself. Are you ready to change for the evening?"

"I am. Do you mind helping me?"

"Of course not," Frieda replied, lifting her gaze back to Sonja with a smile. "Especially considering the last time you had to get out of a corset on your own."

Sonja's expression turned sheepish. "I don't think I can be held accountable for that."

"Well, the least that can be said of it is that you didn't gut yourself when you cut it off."

"Yes, yes. You and Magnus can have a good chuckle over my misadventures later in the gardens," she replied, remembering her brother's earlier gibe about Cyrille.

Frieda had risen from her seat and set her embroidery down on the stool. At the mention of Magnus she froze. Despite the dimness of the hall, Sonja could see how her friend's face had darkened with a flush.

"I… I'm not meeting-"

"Yes," Sonja said firmly. "You are. If I have to carry you down there myself, you're going to rendezvous with my brother. Because if I have to watch the two of you pine after one another for a day longer, I'm going to go completely mad and I swear I'll take everyone in the castle with me."

The princess smiled and reached for Frieda's hand, leading her into her bedroom. Frieda only barely managed to grab her candle from the window sill.

"So come get me out of this dress and corset, and then go. Magnus said he would be waiting for you in the gardens in about an hour."

"Well…" Frieda struggled for words, for justification. It figured that Magnus would fall in love with the one woman in the castle who fully adhered to social protocol. "….I suppose if… that was your royal orders…"

"It is."

Frieda closed the door behind them, and then moved to set her candle down on a side table. When she headed to light the lamps of the room, Sonja moved to help her. She was promptly shooed away from the task, Frieda citing the reason of "I really would like to see you _not _catch fire".

Once the lamps were lit, Frieda returned to Sonja and began to unlace her dress with deft fingers. The wide garment was neatly draped over the back of the vanity chair. Her hoop skirt was taken to the tall, oaken wardrobe, and the corset followed. The only thing that she did not remove was the old sash coiled about Sonja's hips. That she left for Sonja to remove.

While Frieda wrestled the dress into a different wardrobe, Sonja unfurled the sash and draped it over her pack of equipment. The box she kept it in was still in her mother's room. She would have to retrieve it tomorrow.

Sonja quickly changed into the nightgown that had been laid out for her on the foot of her bed, and tossed the remainder of her underclothes into the basket for worn garments that waited by the door for the laundresses.

"Would you like for me to brush your hair?" Frieda asked.

Sonja shook her head. "I can do that. You have other matters to attend to, remember?"

Once more, Frieda flushed but this time when she did she smiled as well. "Then I suppose I shall be going."

"Good night, Frieda," Sonja replied, smiling as she picked up her silver-handled hairbrush from her vanity. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Frieda dipped a polite curtsy, then took her candle and left the room. There was excitement in her every graceful movement that made Sonja almost giddy.

For years she had watched the childhood friendship between her brother and her friend grow into something more. Love, would be her guess; unexplored love that scared them as much as it thrilled them. Not that Sonja knew for herself. She just had read about it before in some of her mother's old novels.

She moved about the room to extinguish the lamps they had only just lit until only one remained. That one she carried over to the window seat where her favorite atlas lay. The lamp was set on a little side table with spindly legs, and she settled onto the plush cushions of her beloved nook. She tucked her legs under her before opening to a random page.

The music was faint now, but she could still catch the odd note of it every few minutes. She smiled as she brushed her long blonde hair and studied the lines of the map before her. This had been her nightly ritual for as long as she could remember.

The only thing had been more soothing than having her hair brushed and studying maps had been the sound of her father's voice. She had always loved best when he would tell her stories about whatever land it was that she was engrossed in. He seemed to always have a story for something.

Sighing, she looked to the dim shapes on her walls. So many places, so many people, so many adventures! She had never sought them out. She probably never would. At least… not until she was certain her mother would be okay.

A little smile tugged at her lips. Anna had worn the green dress that night. She had laughed and even danced one dance a piece with her sons, and had participated in a few of the groups dances. Maybe one day Sonja would get to go on her adventures after all.

For now, however, she continued to brush her hair, and resumed studying her atlas until the wick in her lamp began to burn low.

* * *

><p>Sonja reached for the knob that fed more of the cotton wick to the flame. Laughter made her pause. Someone was down in the garden. She looked out the window, forgetting the lamp for the time being, to investigate.<p>

Moonlight illuminated the fauna of the innermost courtyard with the same clarity as a morning sun. The pond was mostly obscured by the thick overhang of the trees that edged it, but every so often a stray glint would cut through the shadows. In the far back corner, the dome of Salama's personal mosque caught the light and shimmered with the same blues, purples, and silver-white of the castle on the North Mountain that Elsa had crafted so long ago.

She only remembered that Magnus was meeting Frieda in the garden when she spotted them. Frieda had been the one laughing. She had one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle the residual giggling. The other hand was in Magnus', their fingers entwined as he led her to the wide expanse of grass near the pond.

They were too far away for Sonja to hear them speak, but she could clearly see them exchanging words that only made them smile all the more. After a few moments, Frieda let go of Magnus' hand to reach for the sash tied about her waist. Sonja could not be certain, but it looked a lot like the same piece of fabric that Frieda had been embroidering before helping her change from the ballgown.

Magnus took the sash and stroked his fingers over it with a delicate touch. Only then did Sonja realize he was not wearing his gloves. His smile softened as he held the sash out to Frieda. When she held it again, he raised his arms.

As tenderly as he had held it, Frieda tied it about his waist even more gently. She tilted her face up to his with a shy smile, and said something that made Magnus grin a little more. His hands lifted to cup her face. She leaned into him a little more.

That was the last Sonja saw. She turned away and reached for her lamp again. The flame sputtered out, pitching her room into total darkness. Her atlas was left to lay open on the window seat as she swung her feet around to rest on the cool, polished wood of the floor.

She smiled to herself as she crossed over to her bed. Years. Literally year, those two had been crazy for one another. Finally, they would get their happily ever after.

_Mum will probably love planning a royal wedding,_ she thought as she drew back the covers. The smile never wavered as she settled into the nest of blankets and pillows.

After so many years of uncertainty and sorrow, things were finally beginning to go as they should.

* * *

><p>Sonja awoke only a few hours later, long before dawn broke. Light from the moon spilled in through her window, bathing everything close to it in a silver glow and casting odd, twisted shadows onto everything else.<p>

She yawned as she climbed from the warmth of her bed, and padded over to the dresser near the wardrobe where Frieda had stored her hoop skirt and corset. Her eyes were still bleary with sleep, but she refused to go back to bed. She had not missed a morning climb for anything.

Her movements were slower than usual, but she still managed to pull on her layers. When she grabbed her equipment and shouldered the pack, her father's sash fell to the floor. She retrieved it without hesitation, and tied it about her waist without a second thought.

_I'll put it back in its box when I get back._

She paused at the door only long enough to grab her boots and open the door as quietly as she could. Another yawn escaped her as she headed down the hall towards the main stairs.

The stairs creaked under her weight. Sonja's brow furrowed at the thought. She had not yet made it to the stairs.

Confusion and curiosity propelled her, pushed her towards the stairs to see who was up at such an awful hour. Was it Salama again? Surely Elsa was able to rest peacefully now that the ball was over and done with. So why would Salama not be resting as well?

_Perhaps Freddy got challenged to a duel after all_, she groused, shifting the weight of her pack. _Or he's sneaking off to meet with someone._

Even as she thought it, she knew that the sound was not coming from the direction of Freddy's room. That fact aside, Freddy would never wake so early for anything. Not for love or money.

Sonja stopped at the end of the hall and peered into the darkness, trying to catch any sort of movement that would solve the mystery. The creak of the wood floor was fainter now, whoever it was moving up the stairs towards her mother and aunt's rooms.

The sleep that clouded her mind dissipated a little more. They would all be asleep, and the servants would not go to wake them for a while longer. An emergency in the kingdom? No, the Captain of the Guard would be making enough noise to wake the dead of seven generations if that was the case.

Panic raced down her spine and constricted her chest. Heat raced up the back of her neck and over her scalp.

Someone had broken in the palace.

She set her pack down on the floor, near the archway of the hall she stood in. With the deftness of practice she unfastened the ice pick from its place on the side of her bag. Her heart raced as she held it by her side and crept out to the stairs.

Years of sneaking out in the middle of the night had taught her which steps to avoid, and how to maneuver the noisy maze of an old palace. Her stocking feet aided her stealth as she headed up the steps as quickly as she dared move. She paused on the landing.

The door to her mother's room was still closed, as was the door to her aunts' room. The third door of the landing, the door that led to the private study of the reigning monarch, was ajar. Her grip tightened on the ice pick as she moved forward, her free hand lifted to push the door open a little more.

She could just make out a silhouette in front of the bookcase against the wall adjacent to the one that the portrait of her grandfather's coronation hung on. The intruder was tall and lean, almost to the point of lankiness. There was not much more to distinguish since they stood in the shadows just out of the reach of the moonlight.

A board creaked. Both she and the intruder's bodies went rigid at the noise, and she prayed that the sound would be dismissed. There was no such luck to be had.

The intruder was faster than she had anticipated. They were halfway across the room before Sonja could react, and grabbed the other side of the door handle when she moved to slam the door shut. The intruder flung the door open and rushed past her.

She grasped the back of their dark shirt with her free hand and swung the ice pick at them hard. Her blow never made contact, but the intruder's did. Their elbow caught her hard in the temple.

Pain exploded through her skull, rendering everything a brilliant, lingering white. Her jaw dropped open to cry out, to warn the others. A hand clamped hard over her mouth and pushed her back against the wall.

She could hear something. Someone was speaking in a hushed tone, in a language she could not understand. The voice was deep, authoritative. They pulled their hand away, and she tried again to scream. No sound reached her lips.

"I'm so sorry," the intruder whispered, right before darkness overcame her.


	7. Chapter 7

_To and fro._

_To and fro._

_To and fro._

_How many hours had she hung there, clinging to the rope with hands she could no longer feel? Ice made her cheeks burn, and she could hear her eyelashes crack whenever she tried to open her eyes. She had been sitting in the loop of the rope for so long that she could no longer feel her legs._

_Was she even alive?_

_Someone called her name. She could just barely hear it. Someone else called another._

_The rope snapped. _

Sonja came awake with a strangled cry, her body jolting hard enough that whatever was carrying her lost its grip. She landed on the ground with a shout, and burning pain shot through her hip and shoulder on the impact. The first thought that achieved clarity was that she had fractured something. The second was a string of foul curses she did not often use.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

The speaker was apparently human and male. And a scandalized one at that. An image of a tall, thin figure assailing her in the dark rose up from the haze of her memory. If the two were one and the same she had a whole different repertoire to unleash on them.

She tried to bring her hands forward to push herself up from the ground. Her arms could not move. The limbs had been lashed flat to her torso. Further investigation found that her legs had been bound just as tightly. The heat that rushed into her face would have easily melted the thin frost on the ground beneath her.

"Stop squirming like that. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Stop telling me what to do," she snapped. "Devil take you! I'll do as I please!"

He sighed. He sighed! Like _she_ was the imposition here!

"Fine," he replied, his accent more pronounced in his agitation. "Wriggle away. See if I care if you strain a tendon or pull a muscle."

Sonja scowled deep enough for her brows to touch. Unable to get up, she settled for rolling onto her back. At least from this vantage she could see her kidnapper.

The man stood facing her with his arms folded across his chest. The image he cut was not quite the same as the one she remembered. Though he was as tall as she recalled, he was not as skinny as he had been in the dark. In fact, he seemed to have the build of the farmers she sometimes saw in the market; lean but strong.

He could not have been older than Magnus or younger than herself. The line of his jaw was too hard and square, and the slope of his brow a little too pronounced for him to be any younger. The stubbly beard that dusted his chin and cheeks was as dark as the mass of wild curls that sat on top of his head.

"Why did you break into the palace?" she demanded at last. "Who are you? Who sent you?"

The response she got was not exactly what she was looking for.

"None of that is currently your business. All you need to know is that the Snow Queen has something I want, and your new name is 'Leverage'. Got that, princess?"

Sonja's face flushed with the new surge of anger. "Don't call her that! She hates it."

He rolled his eyes. "Because I care about Queen Elsa's preferred nomenclatures."

"You will when she catches up to you and gelds you with a blast of ice."

"Again with the language." His brows arched in horror, then furrowed again a beat later. "What do they teach you princesses in Arendelle?"

"Common manners," she snapped. "Like not kidnapping people."

Again, he rolled his eyes. Already she'd had quite enough of the gesture. His hands dropped to his side as he drew closer to her. Much to her displeasure, he was smart enough to not get too close. Even though she was bound from ankle to armpit, she was still fully capable of biting his nose off.

"How long do you plan on railing against me, princess?" he asked. The exasperation in the question unnerved her. "Because I really don't need you shouting in the mountains and bringing an avalanche down on our heads."

"The mountains?"

The surprise in Sonja's features was echoed in his. He met her gaze evenly, and for a moment she thought she saw interest flicker across his face. If it had been there, he quickly tamped it down with another scowl.

"Yes, the mountains. Specifically the ones that ring your kingdom. Is that a problem, Your Highness?"

She tilted her head to look at the forest that surrounded them. Until that moment, she had not taken notice of the fact that he had been carrying her through the woods. The trees were mostly pine and spruce, but she could see make out the towering shapes of alders. The trees were old and tall, their canopies thick enough to weave together and nearly obscure the sky. Dappled sunlight fell across her, warming patches of her face while shade kept the rest cool.

There was nothing that struck her as familiar. Nothing she could use as a point of reference. Panic rose into her chest and constricted it. He was going to get them lost and killed.

"Do you even know where you're going?" she asked.

"Of course I do," he insisted. "We're headed west. To Torknut."

Sonja lifted her head and cut her eyes back to him. Torknut lay over the northern range and near the coast to the west. Had they sailed out of Arendelle they would have made it there in little more than a day and a half. On foot, however…

"That's going to take days."

"I'm well aware," he replied, his tone contrite.

"So you've got climbing ropes, anchors, and spikes?" He opened his mouth to speak, but she did not give him a chance to respond. "What about food? Water? Flint and tinder? Surely you don't intend to wear that the entire time."

He looked to the dark clothes he wore and frowned once more. There was uncertainty in his voice when he spoke again. "There's nothing wrong with my clothes. It's spring."

Bewildered derision overtook her, and she could not keep herself from laughing. He was going to get them killed quicker than she had thought he would. The laughter echoed in the trees around them, startling a few birds from their perches. There were tears in her eyes when she finally quieted down.

"You must be from a Southern nation," she said between residual chuckles. "The days might be warm in Arendelle, but they're not going to be in the northern mountains. And the nights?" Sonja laughed again, with as little amusement as she had felt before. "Do me a favor. When you lose feeling in your toes and fingers, give me a knife to cut myself free of these ropes. I don't want to die of hypothermia with only you for company."

He said nothing until she had grown silent, and merely continued squatting next to her until she had laughed to her contentment. When she was finished, she shook her head and lay back flat on the ground. She stared straight up at the canopy of tree branches that mottled the pale blue of the morning sky. The ground beneath her no longer crunched when she moved. The sparse frost had melted.

"Are you done?" he finally asked.

Sonja nodded. "Yeah. For good, it sounds like."

"We're not going to die. I'm not completely incapable."

Without moving her head, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Somehow, she just was not comforted by the statement.

"I brought your pack."

Mildly comforted. Perhaps.

"Where is it?"

He nodded towards her feet, and she craned her head to look in the direction. Before she caught sight of the pack of equipment, she realized that she wore her boots. The confusion must have registered on her face. She had not even opened her mouth to speak before he offered her a rather sheepish explanation.

"I put your boots on you before we left the castle. And grabbed your pack."

"Oh." The touching gesture shocked her, made her falter. Had he been concerned about her well-being? Maybe he was not a complete scoundrel.

"Didn't want anyone to think anything was out of the ordinary."

Well, nevermind. "Oh," she repeated, flatly this time. "My eternal thanks for putting my shoes on before you stole me away in the dead of night. From my own home. My hero."

"I can always take them off again if they bother you that much," he sniped in return.

She could have continued grousing. Heavens knew that she'd had enough practice with Freddy to be as sarcastic as the day was long. The more she thought about her predicament, however, the more her fury ebbed.

No one would know what had happened to her. No one would miss her until the dark fell and she did not return. No one would know that she was alive and not wandering lost and cold in the mountains.

Her heart began to race when the full weight of the situation settled on her. The panic she had felt before flared again, knotting her gut until she thought she might vomit.

"You have to take me back," she said, her voice quavering. "Before dark. I have to go back to Arendelle."

He frowned at her again, more with disbelief than discontentment. "I think you're ill acquainted with the concept of kidnapping, Your Highness."

"You don't understand. Mum will think I'm dead if I don't go back." Every fiber of her being worked to constrain the growing hysteria she felt gnawing at her. She fought to keep her breathing even, and though she managed to keep it slow, it became shallow with the effort.

He shook his head though his expression seemed to soften as he watched her. "No. You're not going back until I get what I want."

"And did you leave your demands for them at the castle?" The question was nearly shrieked, making him flinch away from the noise. He would not meet her gaze when he answered her.

"I was going to send the letter when we reached one of the trading posts."

"She has to know," Sonja gasped, her voice cracking on the plea. "Mum has to know that I'm okay." Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut against the burn. Sweat began to dot her brow. "She'll go to pieces if she doesn't."

"Okay. Okay! Just… just give me a minute."

She heard him rise to his feet and move away from her. His footsteps grew fainter with every moment that passed until she could no longer hear him. When silence descended, she opened her eyes and looked in the direction she thought he had wandered off in. At first she did not see him through the trees. He had vanished into the shadows, and the only reason she finally found him was because he whistled.

The melody was short, only a couple of notes. He repeated the whistle three times, and then grew quiet. A grey bird drifted down from the trees to land on his outstretched hand. She did not know for sure, but he seemed to be talking to it. The creature fluttered off when he was done.

He trudged back to her, his mouth drawn into a tight line. As he had before, he crouched beside her when he was close enough.

"Doves can only remember about five syllables," he said, still not meeting her gaze. "But it should get the message clear enough."

"What did you tell it to say?"

"Princess not dead."

Relief coursed through her. Her muscles unclenched and the roiling of her guts eased until it was completely gone. For a long moment her heart continued to beat hard against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe normally. She relaxed against the ground again, and waited for the vigorous beating to subside on its own.

Neither of them said anything. He would not look at her yet, and she did not know what to make of him. There were at least a dozen questions she wanted him to answer, though she had no idea how to pose them. At least, not politely. Since she had woken up, her nerves had been tested a little too hard for her to remember how to be a diplomat.

"So…" she began. The calm that washed over her extinguished her agitation completely for the time being. Curiosity had taken a stronger hold on her for the time being. "You talk to birds?"

He nodded. "Sometimes."

"Do you… Can you…" Sonja wracked her brain for decent phrasing. "What's that about?"

"I'm a magician," he explained. "Sorcerer. Conjurer. Witch. Take your pick."

There was another pause before she replied. "I didn't think boys could be witches."

"And I didn't think girls could be mountaineers. We've both learned something new today."

The response caught her off guard, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Now that she paid attention, he did not seem quite as abrasive when he spoke. Unless she was mistaken, there seemed to be a note of amusement in his tone. Maybe she could tolerate him for a little while longer.

"Are you going to keep me tied up like this all the way to Torknut?" she asked.

He hesitated, his mouth falling open with the indecision of how to answer her. He closed it after a beat, and reached to rake his hand through the dark, wild locks of his hair. The contemplation stretched on, and consisted of two more passes through his hair and a huff before he finally made his decision.

"No," he replied, somewhat grudgingly. "But if you run, we're going back to this. Got it?"

Sonja nodded, hope making her heart skip a beat as she watched him move towards her pack of equipment. She would not run until an absolute opportunity presented itself. Now that she knew a little more about him she could better anticipate his moves in another fight. He, on the other hand, did not know what all she was capable of. This time she would have the upper hand.

After a moment of rummaging through her pack, he pulled out a blade and returned to her.

"Try untying the knot first," she instructed, nodding to the knot near her ankle. "We might need the rope later."

He nodded his agreement and did as he was bade, kneeling next to her ankles. The knife was laid on the ground beside them, forgotten as he began to untie the knot with deft fingers. The coils around her legs went slack in a matter of moments.

"Forgive this," he murmured as he climbed to his feet. "But it's either this or holding that end of the rope and rolling you down a hill."

Sonja watched him walk around her until he stood at just above her head. The furrows returned to his brow, and there was hesitancy in his movements. He knelt and grabbed the coils of rope pressed against her upper arms, and hauled her into a sitting position.

She was surprised by the care he took in helping her stand up. There was no roughness or carelessness in his touch, but a consideration for her comfort that baffled her. After all, he had kidnapped her from her home in the dead of night after knocking her out. By all logic it should not matter to him if she was at ease or not.

"Did you cast a spell on me before?" she asked once she was upright. The thought had not occurred to her before, but now she was calm and able to more clearly remember the things that had transpired before. Was that how he had bested her? Cheating with magic? "At the palace?"

He let go of her, and bent to pick up the trailing length of rope at her legs. With the same deftness that he had demonstrated in untying the knot, he began to unwind the rope from her body and carefully loop it around the palm and elbow of his right arm.

"I did," he replied. "Better that you be unconscious than I be lobotomized."

"You attacked me!"

"I did not!"

"You did," she insisted. "You came right at me."

He snorted. "You were standing in the middle of the doorway. What else was I supposed to do? Fly out the window?"

"Don't witches ride broomsticks?" she retorted. "Or did you leave yours at home with your cauldron?"

"Oh, ha ha. Aren't you the witty one, Your Highness?"

There was no real menace in the words, and again she could not help smiling. He reminded her of Freddy in a way. If Freddy was a bit more cynical and a little less foppish.

"Can you not call me that?" she asked.

His gaze lifted to hers, and he slowed in his task. "What am I supposed to call you then? It's what you are."

"That logic is not going to end well for you," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "Call me Sonja."

For a moment she thought he was not going to give her a serious response. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed as he dropped his gaze back to the ropes. "Valeriu. You can call me Val."

Val said nothing more. He had unfurled the rope up to her knees, and now began to walk around her in slow circles to continue the process. It took him longer to completely unbind her than what she cared for, but she was appreciative of how he kept his hands to himself.

_He's an odd kidnapper_, she thought. _Very odd._

"There," he announced as the last coil fell away from her shoulders. The length of rope was twisted around the rest of it to tie the loops into place.

Sonja stretched slowly, taking her time in working the stiffness from the muscles that had been immobilized for so long. While she did, Val draped the rope across his chest and shoulder like a poor man's sash.

"You can lash that to the pack if you want." She nodded towards her equipment as she raised her arms above her head.

"It's fine. Besides, that pack is heavy enough as it is," he replied.

"It's not that bad."

"It is. Do you carry that thing with you all the time?"

"Only when I'm going into the mountains."

Val's eyes widened. He was either impressed or disbelieving, and she was unsure as to which it was. "You climb mountains with that thing on you?"

"Yeah." Her arms dropped into a folded position at chest level, her balled fists even with her shoulders, and she twisted one way and then the other. The cracking of her spine made him grimace. "I kind of have to. Otherwise I'll succumb to that whole dying thing, and that would just cast a pall over my whole day."

To her surprise, he cracked a smile. He seemed to have forgotten himself in his amusement, to have forgotten that he was the villain of the hour. When he grinned, he seemed more his age and Sonja could not help but let go of a little more of her displeasure with him.

Maybe she had been rash in her decision to bolt once she got the chance. After all, he would have harmed her already if that had been his intent, right? And he certainly would not have sent that dove to her mother to soothe her. Besides, she had waited half her life for a chance for an adventure all her own.

All those long hours of dreaming about far off lands, and now she had to chance to see them for herself. The circumstances were not ideal, but they were enough to afford her the opportunity she had yearned for.

She was out of Arendelle.

The biggest step had been taken. All she had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other. If Val proved her wrong and turned out to be a threat down the road… Well, she knew what he was capable of now. She could handle him.


	8. Chapter 8

Though they had come as close to a truce as what they could manage under the circumstances, neither was entirely sure of the other. They walked for a long time with little to no conversation which suited Sonja just fine. There was nothing in particular that she wanted to talk to Val about that they had not already addressed when he untied her. Instead she kept her attention on their surroundings.

To begin with she had been uncertain of where they were, but the longer they travelled the more she began to recognize the forest around them. Knowing where they were and in which direction they were travelling had soothed her immensely. She was almost enjoying herself as they crossed streams and climbed over boulders.

Hours had passed before she realized that she had not had to alter her typical pace to accommodate her companion. The realization spurred her to break the silence.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

They were making their way up a steep incline, carefully picking a footpath through the rocks that jutted out at varying angles from the tilted ground. Val stood on a rather wide boulder and reached upwards to test those before him to determine which would bear his weight. His brows drew together with concentration.

"Does it matter, princess?"

Sonja shrugged as much as she could, and hauled herself up to her next rock. "Just a curiosity. You keep a good pace."

Val grunted as he followed her motions and worked towards a higher boulder. When he had accomplished the task, he paused to inhale deeply.

"I'll take the compliment. Especially considering you haven't lost me yet."

Amusement curled her lips into a half-smile. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

"I'm not really from anywhere in particular," he replied. "Most of my life has been nomadic, but my family just moved to the mountains of Romania."

Sonja turned on her rock to look down towards him with surprise. Her hands rested on her hips, against the sleeves of the coat she had tied about her waist some time before. Though the day was not overly warm, the effort of walking and climbing had raised her temperature enough that the weight of the thick coat was stifling.

"Romania? You're a long way from home."

"That's what makes it an adventure." His tone, acerbic as ever, made her grin a little more.

He looked up to her, exhaling in a huff as he did. Though he had made a valiant effort in keeping her pace, there was weariness in his features that she had not noticed before. Dark half-circles were becoming more and more prominent under his eyes, the lids of which were beginning to droop. Sweat dampened his brow close to his hairline, plastering the black curls to his forehead and temples.

The smile ebbed from her face. "You're not getting tired, are you?"

"Are you?" he countered.

Sonja shook her head. "Even if I was, we need to press on. Soon as the sun sets on these woods, the wolves come out."

"Wolves?" Val scoffed. "Wolves are exactly what I need at this junction in my life. Excellent."

He heaved a sigh and moved forward again, scaling up just a bit more with measured effort. Sonja watched him until he was just under her rock, and then turned to continue her way upwards as well.

"If you'll pick up your pace, I know somewhere we can stay tonight."

Val drew up next to her, startling her with his proximity. She had been certain that he would not close the distance between them so quickly. His hand groped above them to seek another rock to hoist himself up further.

"Royal hunting lodge?"

The response that rose to her lips died there. She heard the grinding of rock on rock, felt the cascade of dirt and pebbles against her chest and arms. Beside her, Val yelped as his handhold gave out from under him and the rock went flying over both their heads. He fell against the small boulder level with his abdomen, and gasped as the wind was knocked from his body.

She grasped the collar and shoulder of his shirt to keep him from sliding down further than he already had. Her grip on both Val's shirt and her own handhold tightened.

"Thanks," he wheezed.

"You should probably just follow me," she replied, her brows knitting together. "Before you bring down a mountain on your head."

"It's not that big of a mountain." He paused to inhale a little deeper, to try and regain the breath he had lost. "Wouldn't even call it that, really."

Sonja rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. She simply waited for him to steady himself and find a different handhold before she released him. Despite his response, he did as she had suggested and waited for her to lead. Val followed in her wake, stepping where she stepped and grabbing only the handholds that she grabbed.

"Do you really know all this part of the country that well?" he asked after a long stretch of silence.

Sonja once again gave the slightest shrug she could muster without compromising her grip. "I've explored this land every day since I was old enough to walk on my own."

Val fell back into silence, though she had expected him to give her some snip of a response as he was wont to do in conversation. A thread of disappointment wound its way through her to hear him go quiet. Even so, she said nothing either and simply continued to climb.

Another quarter hour of climbing brought them to the crest of the little plateau they had been working their way up. Almost immediately Val doubled over and grasped his knees, bracing himself as he panted. Sonja ignored him, instead drawing to the far edge of the mostly flat ground. She inhaled the cooling air with a pleased smile.

"This is…" Val drew in a deep breath and heaved it out a second later. "You do this for fun?"

She turned towards him again, her smile never faltering. She was a Princess of Arendelle, but this was her true kingdom. "Exhilarating, isn't it?"

"Not quite the word I'd choose…"

The gaze he lifted to her was filled with the accusation of her actually being insane. He gave no voice to the thought, however, and instead asked her, "How much further to this refuge of yours?"

"Not far," she replied. "It's just on the other side of this valley."

A small, wry smile tweaked the corners of her lips as she motioned to the mountains across the way. The tallest of the range was blanketed with the blinding white powder of snow that continuously fell with no regard to what season it was supposed to be. At the peak stood the glittering construct that bore testament to her aunt's power.

The sight of the North Mountain drew Val up from his half-crouch. He had forgotten himself again. His eyes were wide and his jaw agape with an awe that was reserved for small children and miracles. Sonja watched with a gleeful gleam in her eyes as he closed the gap between them and stopped next to her at the edge.

"That's the Snow Queen's castle," he breathed. "I've heard stories…"

Whatever he intended to say was lost to the wonder of the moment. He simply shook his head in disbelief, marveling at what lay before them.

"Don't call her that," Sonja chided, with a little less malice than she had the last time he had called Elsa such.

Turning her sight away from him, she looked over the edge to pick out the best path down to the forest. Val was weary, there was no denying that, and trekking on would be hard enough on him without adding a fall. His welfare aside, the last thing _she_ needed was to have to carry him to the ice castle.

"Sorry," he replied, surprisingly sheepish. "Got caught up in the moment."

Val turned his gaze towards her when she did not snap a reply at him. It took a moment for him to realize what she doing. He shifted his gaze again to stare at the hillside before them. Moving a little closer to Sonja, he pointed towards a faint path that widely zigged and zagged down to the forest that separated them from the castle.

"What about that one?"

Sonja startled at his nearness, having not heard him move. She swore under her breath that she was going to pin a bell to him, but followed his gesture to study the narrow path he indicated. No doubt it was the safest way down, but it would take the longest amount of time to traverse.

"It's the easiest, but we're going to have to make a mad dash for it once we reach the trees."

"Well, if you run half as well as you climb, we should be fine."

* * *

><p>Val stumbled for the second time since they had begun the descent towards the forest. Sonja heard his boots scuff against the rough ground, and she heard him swear lowly in a language she did not understand. Both facts only barely registered with her. Her gaze was on the sky.<p>

The bright blue overhead had darkened and streaked through with the reds and pinks of an evening sun that she could no longer see through the trees. Nighttime would soon be upon them, and they were still at least six meters from the tree line. Uneasiness knotted her stomach.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking over her shoulder towards Val. He had straightened by then, and nodded to her in response. "Good. If I make a torch, can you light it with that magic of yours?"

"I can do better than that."

He held out his left hand, palm up, and made a counter-clockwise circle above it with his right hand, palm down. A bright, fat flame flared into existence and hovered above his palm. Sonja watched with fascination, delighting in his power despite her earlier determination not to.

"How long can you keep it going?

"About eight hours, and then it begins to drain my power."

"Good. We'll get to the castle long before then." _Assuming the wolves don't eat us._


	9. Chapter 9

They fell to silence again, each focusing on their footing as they rushed the rest of the way down as quickly as they could manage. Val skidded on pebbles another couple of times but never fell. Sonja jumped over the last rise and landed on the soft grass of the woodland with a muted "whump".

She turned to watch her companion follow her lead. The tension eased from her shoulders when he landed firmly on his feet. The fire in his hand cast a warm orange glow over his features, and sent long shadows twisting across the grey ground behind him. Full dark had not yet descended on them, but the twilight was thick enough that they would not have been able to see without that spark of light.

"Come on," she urged.

Val closed the distance between them, bathing her in the light of the fire he held. Sonja waited until he was right behind her before she turned to start into the woods. There was no clear-cut path for them to follow, but some animal, an elk or reindeer if she had to guess, had beat down enough of a trail through the underbrush that they could travel at least part of the way without having to struggle against brambles and detritus.

Neither spoke. There was nothing to discuss. They both knew that they had to hurry, to be as quiet as they could manage to keep from drawing attention to themselves. The darkness outside the sphere of firelight grew thicker with every moment until Sonja could see only as far in front of her as what the light touched.

The first echoing howl raised the hair on the back of her neck. The second made her stomach knot with dread. Swearing lowly, she groped blindly behind her until her hand grasped Val's wrist. He stumbled at first, startled by the strength of her grip as she began to drag him down the path. When he regained his footing he jogged along after her without complaint.

A third howl rent the air.

Their feet thundered against the ground, jolting their bodies with each pounding step in a rhythm that nearly matched that of their wildly beating hearts. The trail was beginning to fade and soon they would be left to their own devices. If only they had a sleigh…

_Wait,_ her panicked mind whispered, _he can use magic._ She was ashamed that the thought had not occurred to her before to ask him if there was a simpler way for them to cross to the safety of the North Mountain.

"Do you not have a spell to transport us to the castle?" Sonja yelled over her shoulder.

"Yes and no," he shouted back.

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"It means I can get me there, princess, but you might end up in another world entirely."

"Your magic is useless, witch-boy!"

"At least we're not running in the dark!"

Brambles snatched at Sonja's pants legs. The first branch broke away from the wiry bush with the force of her movement. The second branch, thicker and wilder than the first, whipped about her leg and tripped her.

Val caught her by the upper arm with his free hand before she could hit the dirt. The hand that held the fire swept over her leg. The brambles withered and turned to ash under the heat of the flames.

"Not so useless now, is it?"

"Marginally less useless."

Another howl rose from the trees to her right when she was back on her feet. Panic shot through her gut as she turned to peer into the darkness, seeking out the reflection of the firelight in any eyes that might be watching them. Her relief was brief when she found nothing.

There was no need for her to drag Val after her this time. The nearness of the last howl had renewed his energy enough that he jogged after her. It helped that the brambles seemed to be recoiling from the path as they ran. The realization as to why did not occur to Sonja until she realized that their circle of light was growing smaller and dimmer.

"Val," she called without looking towards him. "What are you doing?"

"Nevermind what I'm doing," he snapped back. "Just keep going."

Sonja thought to argue with him, but the thought was put to rest by a far memory. She could almost hear her father's voice as clearly as though he were there in the flesh reminding her of his lessons.

"_There's no use in rationing something if it's going to kill you to do it. Use it now to take you farther. There may be more ahead, and if there isn't- You tried."_

They fell to silence after that, save for the heavy thud of their boots and the rapid panting of their breaths. Around them the wolves were drawing ranks, their howling becoming louder and more frequent. Sonja started each time she heard them, and by the time she and Val broke through to the other side of the woods, her chest ached from the furious beating of her heart.

"SONJA!"

She felt the burst of heat behind her, and smelled singed hair a beat after she did. At first she thought it might be her own, but a pained yelp uncomfortably close to her left made her decide it wasn't.

Val's fire was gone, leaving only star-light to guide their path until moonrise. Ahead of them she could see the faint glow of the North Mountain, could see the sparkling willow trees that marked the edge of the icy queendom her aunt had made so long ago. They were so close to safety.

"Val are you still with me?" she shouted, slowing only enough to peek over her shoulder.

What burst of energy he had found before was spent. He was beginning to lag. Behind him she could see the dark shapes of the wolves hanging back, waiting for him to succumb to weariness and fall. His attack on their packmate had left them more wary than they had been.

Sonja stumbled to a stop and turned to fully face him. She could make it the rest of the way. Especially if the wolves busied themselves with him. A twinge of something, either madness or compassion she decided, pushed the thought aside.

She could not leave him. Kidnapper or not, she did not have it in her to leave a man to such a grim fate.

Rushing back to him, she tucked herself under his arm and wrapped her own about his waist. He made some protest in that language she did not understand, but leaned on her more than she thought he meant to.

"Just shut up and keep moving."

By nothing less than a miracle as far as she was concerned, Val kept moving. He pushed himself to keep up with her brisk steps. Sonja would have been lying had she said she was not impressed with him. Another person would have at least complained, but Val did not. He saved every bit of strength he had to keep going.

Over the sound of their own steps, she heard the wolves prowling closer. The panic from before surged through her. If the beasts found their courage again, this would be where her adventure ended.

In the very same mountains that had claimed her father.

Her thoughts were broken by a new noise; a rumbling that made her guts churn with unease. Beneath her feet, the ground trembled hard enough to make the frozen tendrils of the willow trees quiver and tinkle.

_Good lord, an avalanche? The universe has a sick sense of humor._

She looked up in time to see the bulk of the ice and snow racing down the foot of the mountain and disappear behind the trees. A roar louder than thunder swept over them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Val blanche paler than the snow before them, but she smiled. This was an avalanche that she knew.

"_MARSHMALLOW_!" the princess screamed. "_OVER HERE_!"

Another bellow answered her, and the giant snowman burst through the tree line moments later. The ice on his back was raised in high, dangerous pikes that were as sharp and terrifying as his teeth and claws.

His gaze lighted first on Sonja, and then on the wolves that had skidded to a stop at his appearance. Marshmallow bellowed again, this time at the creatures that threatened his mistress' girl, and launched himself in their direction. The wolves retreated without hesitation.

Val and Sonja did not stop their trek for a moment. They only slowed when they reached the trees that Marshmallow had erupted from. Near the broken branches stood another pillar of ice and snow. This one was far more human in her appearance than what Marshmallow was.

Powderpuff was one of Magnus' earliest creations, made because he was sad that Marshmallow lived at the ice palace by himself. He had designed her to be only half her companion's height, and had a figure that was generous in curves As human as what she appeared, however, her hands and the spikes on her head resembled Marshmallow's.

"Princess?" Powderpuff's voice was soft with concern as she rushed to Sonja's side. "Princess, what is going on?"

Her gaze dropped from Sonja to Val, who stared at her in wide-eyed silence. "Who is this?"

Sonja shook her head. "I can tell you later, but we have to get to the palace to rest."

"Of course, Princess."

Powderpuff looked over Sonja's shoulder to where Marshmallow was approaching them. His spikes had retracted, giving him a softer look than before.

"Marshy, would you take the young man from the Princess? I don't think he can make it on his own."

Marshmallow made a noise, and reached sweep Val up in one arm. The sorcerer seemed to pale all the more with the action, but made no move or sound. Sonja could not decide if it was terror or exhaustion that made him react that way.

"You'll be fine," Sonja told him. "Marshmallow carried us all around this mountain when we were kids."

Val slid her a sideways glance that spoke volumes on how unconvinced he was as to his welfare in the snowman's hold.

"Do you need my help, Princess?" Powderpuff asked. She watched Sonja closely, as though she were waiting for her to collapse into a faint or show some other sign of being as drained of energy as Val was.

Sonja shook her head. "I'll be fine."

To prove her words, she readjusted the weight of the pack she still wore, and led the way through the willows. She listened to the crunch of snow beneath Powderpuff's feet, and felt the ground tremor beneath Marshmallow's. Their climb was a long, steep one. Worse than the descent from the hill on the other side of the woods.

_But at least we're safe here. No harm can reach us behind the ice and snow._


	10. Chapter 10

A shock went shot through Sonja, making her heart race and her stomach clench. She bolted upright with a gasp, panicking when her eyes were not greeted by the sight of her maps and trinkets. She looked from one wall to the next and watched as a thousand doppelgangers of herself frantically looked at each other.

For a long moment she thought that she was dreaming, that she was on the cusp of a nightmare. Then the chilled air crept into her cheeks, offering a measure of comfort. She slowly realized that the copies of herself were no more than the reflections cast by the walls of sheer ice that surrounded her. Her breathing slowed to a normal rhythm.

When had she fallen asleep? She didn't remember laying down in the nest of fur-lined blankets she found herself in. She barely remembered walking into the castle with Powderpuff and Val.

Val.

A new shock of fear tore through her. Was he okay? Where had he gone? He had spent so much of his power and energy the night before to save them. Had it been too much for him?

Throwing off the thick blanket that someone, most likely Powderpuff, had draped over her, Sonja hurriedly climbed to her feet. The chill of the ice floor seeped through her socks, but the sensation didn't deter her. She half-slid, half-walked towards the door only to have it swing open before she could reach for the handle.

Powderpuff stood at the threshold, surprised at seeing Sonja already awake. "Your Highness, is everything all right?"

Sonja skidded to a stop, just before she could crash into the snowlady, and nodded. "I was worried about Val."

"He is sleeping in your brother's chamber," Powderpuff replied. She motioned to the hallway behind her with a jerk of her thumb. "I've never seen anyone sleep so heavily."

"He's a witch," Sonja offered with a shrug. With all the energy his magic must have required, she wasn't surprised to hear that he was still passed out. She could only imagine the sort of toll it took on him. "I think he probably pushed himself too hard yesterday."

"So is that what the two of you have in common? A drive to do stupid things?"

Well, she wasn't wrong with the observation. Sonja didn't tell her that though. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose at her. Powderpuff wrinkled her nose right back.

"I haven't done anything stupid. Recently."

"Oh, I beg to differ. After all, here you stand. On a literal floor of ice in just your socks. After spending who-knows-how-long out in the spring chill, playing with witches and wolves."

"It was only the one witch," Sonja objected. "And I'm fine. The cold isn't all the bad, and I'm a sturdy girl. I can recover from anything. Even the last few days."

Powderpuff's brow arched with interest. Too late did Sonja realize that she had been fishing for something to answer all the questions she had not voiced. "The last few days? What's happened the last few days?"

_Well, a boy-witch broke into my home in the dead of night, kidnapped me, dragged me off into the wintry woods without any proper preparation, and nearly got me brutally murdered by ravenous wolves. Though I can't really hold the wolves against him because by that point, for what can only be described as madness, I'd consented to go on with him for the adventure of it._

She could just imagine how well Powderpuff would react to that. Val was decent enough for a criminal, and she would hate to see him crushed to death by a raging snow monster. Or Marshmallow.

"It's just been a long journey," she responded. "That's all."

Powderpuff's eyes narrowed on the human girl, and for a harrowing moment Sonja thought she would push her to elaborate. Of all the nursemaids Sonja'd had to contend with over the years, the snowlady had been her match. So much so that her father had often joked about asking Elsa to give Powderpuff a personal flurry so he could hire her.

Sonja nearly sighed with relief when Powderpuff shifted her line of questioning to more practical inquiries. She asked about the last time they'd eaten, and whether or not they had extra clothes. Did Val need to borrow one of the fur blankets for a cloak? Did she remember to put rations in her pack this time?

As patiently as she could force herself to be, Sonja answered each of the questions. A little pack of the snowgies that roamed the castle shuffled into the room with her boots in tow. She thanked the little snowpeople, and began to pull on and lace up the thick shoes. All the while, Powderpuff quizzed her.

Once she had her boots on, Sonja looked around for her coat and found it draped over the foot of her bed. She grabbed it and shrugged it on before looking to Powderpuff again.

"Is the sleigh still here?" she asked as she fastened the wooden toggles. "And the reindeer?"

Powderpuff's brows drew together, etching suspicion into her features. "The sleigh is, and I'm sure Holly and Jolly are down in the grove."

"I'd like to borrow them if that's all right. We've still got a long way to go."

"How long is a 'long way', Your Highness?"

Sonja shrugged. "Another couple of days if we don't stop."

Silence filled the room. The snowgies were gone, and Powderpuff was as still as a statue. Sonja swore she could hear her own heart beating in the quiet. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't get the first word out before Powderpuff interrupted.

"Are you and this witch-boy eloping?" she asked.

Sonja couldn't say with certainty what she had expected her to ask, but it wasn't that.

"Eloping?" The word was thick in her mouth, almost foreign. The bluntness of the question initially baffled her, though she recovered well enough to protest the idea. "Oh no! No, no, no. Val's just a friend. We're just going on a little trip up to Torknut for…" _Heavens, what is there in Torknut that's even worth mentioning? _"… for… the… ice harvesters' festival."

"Ice harvesters' festival." Powderpuff's droll tone was nearly as chilled as the walls around them.

"Yeah. It's uh… a new thing they're doing. To show appreciation for all the hard work the harvesters put in."

"Mhm. Well, let me know if there is anything I can get you for this 'festival'. Fine china. Embroidered towels. Perhaps a nice tea service."

Powderpuff turned to leave the room, all the while still listing off all the traditional wedding gifts she might send to Sonja. The princess, for her part, sighed and followed her.

"Powderpuff, please," Sonja snorted as they trudged down the stairs. "I'm not marrying Val. Nevermind that I just met him, I don't want to marry anyone."

"Anyone? That's a relief. I was almost insulted," interjected the witch's deep timbre.

The princess startled at the unexpected voice, and turned to face him. At some point Val had fallen into line behind them, following after them in complete silence. He looked better than he had the last time she saw him. His skin was no longer peaked, and his dark eyes were bright and alert. The dark crescents under his eyes had faded, too. She would have been lying to deny she was relieved to see him so improved.

She saw that he had raided the store of clothing that the family had always kept at the castle, just in case they stayed there for any amount of time. The indignation and embarrassment of his hearing her little tirade leeched away from her when her eyes caught on the embroidery at the collar of the deerskin coat he wore. The fabric hung loosely off his shoulders, and he'd had to belt it tightly around his narrow waist. Sometimes she forgot just how big a man her father had been.

"Yeah," she finally replied, meeting his gaze. "Nothing personal. I'm just not the marrying sort."

Val gave a dismissive little shrug, seeming genuinely uninterested in her marital inclinations. "Not my jester, not my court."

Sonja's brow puckered at the strange quote, but she decided against commenting on it.

"On a different but much more important note, we've got transportation to Torknut now. The family sleigh is here, and apparently still in good shape."

"That's well and good, but how are we going to pull it?"

A grin broke out on Sonja's face, and she leaned to clap him on the shoulder. Val nearly toppled with the force of it. "You look pretty stout. You should be able to manage fine."

The suggestion made Val's eyes widen with alarm. Sonja could all but hear his inner monologue denouncing her for the madwoman she surely was, and reevaluating having her continue on with him after all. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't look so worried," she relented. "There is a pair of reindeer Magnus made specifically for the sleigh. They'll take us."

Val's shoulders sagged with obvious relief, sending Sonja, and Powderpuff as well, into another fit of giggles.

Holly and Jolly came when Powderpuff called to them, but she did not call until the sleigh was loaded down with the remaining food and blankets from the castle storeroom. There was an empty cask there as well, and Powderpuff put it in the sleigh for them to fill when they found a stream to do so. When everything was settled and situated, they said their goodbyes and departed.

"I like Powderpuff. She's very considerate."

They were little more than halfway down the slope that served as the castle's drive when Val broke the silence. He was nestled into two of the thick furs that Powderpuff gave them. All Sonja could see of him was his face, His nose and cheeks were already red from the cold.

A little smile tugged at her lips. "She's a fine lady. I think Magnus made her with both Mum and Aunt Elsa in mind."

"I've heard a lot about them," he admitted. "They're very widely loved."

"With good cause," she replied, pride blossoming in her chest. "I know I'm probably a little biased, but they're just really wonderful women. Salama, too."

"Salama?" His brows dipped towards each other as he wracked his memory for the name. "She is your aunt's consort, correct?" Sonja nodded. "I've heard stories about her, too."

"Like what?"

"Like how clever she is, and how she was the most treasured of the King of Maldonia's children. That he trusted her more than anyone."

Again, Sonja nodded. "That's how she wound up in Arendelle. She came to negotiate trade with Maldonia, and never left."

"I heard it was because she fell in love with Queen Elsa."

Sonja had never much cared for tales of love and romance, but she had a soft spot for the story of her aunts. She had been young when Salama came to Arendelle, but old enough to vividly remember it all. The Maldonian Princess of Princesses had been a balm for their grieving hearts. She had brought laughter and joy back into their lives, and it was through her that the palace had been made to feel like home again. Salama often said that when she'd first walked into the throne room and laid eyes on Elsa, she knew that Arendelle was where she was supposed to be. No one had ever suggested otherwise.

"She did. And all of Arendelle fell in love with Salama."

Val fell quiet again, and remained so as they entered the icy forest that marked the edge of the castle's estate. The frozen branches of crystalline willow trees tinkled against one another as they passed through the shimmering curtain. She heard him suck in an appreciative breath at the sight, and couldn't help but smile at his awe.

At some point after that, Sonja wasn't sure when, he had fallen asleep again. His snores were soft, muffled by the fur he was swaddled in.

_I guess he wasn't as rested as I thought._

She nudged the reindeer into moving a little faster down the faint track, hoping that the way was still clear enough to traverse. If they made good enough time, she knew just the place they could break to fill their water cask and maybe take in a quick meal.


End file.
